The Naberries
by madame.alexandra
Summary: In the fledgling New Republic, Princess Leia continues to explore the complexities of where she comes from, and who she is. She tries to make sense of the past; she endeavors to decide what's in her future, and she spends time immersed in the perspectives of a dead woman's family. An installment in the Identity universe. H/L; AU.
1. Prologue

.

* * *

 _Prologue_

 _[ **6** months post-Identity;  
 **2 yrs + 6 months** post-Endor]_

* * *

Pooja Naberrie had admired her aunt for as long as she could remember – she had hero-worshipped the woman in all aspects personally and professionally; she had been in awe of her accomplishments as a precocious young queen, fascinated with her senate career, titillated by the whispered scandals in her personal life, and devastated by her premature death, haunted pleasantly by her lingering ghost – Pooja's veneration of Padmé Naberrie had developed in stages, and the _reasons_ for which she held her in such esteem had changed as she herself grew and matured, but the veneration itself had lingered _unshakably_ -

When she was a little girl, she had loved her as any niece loved a glamorous aunt; Padmé had brought her gifts and smiled at her and taken her seriously, even at such a young age, and Pooja had thought she was beautiful and angelic and mysterious –

\- and then Padmé had died, so suddenly, so abruptly, and so tragically, and Pooja's mother had been in a rage, demanding answers; and her Gran-Papa had lashed out in anger, as well – Pooja remembered the funeral so well; thousands, thousands of people bowed their heads and prayed and mourned and _it stuck with her._

It stuck with her so poignantly that she studied Padmé in secret as she grew up – the records were destroyed, but Pooja's mother would talk about her often, in hushed voices, and Gran-Mama would, as well – and Pooja found ways to read about her in the old archives in Theed because – not everything was _gone._ Her name was stricken, but Pooja could read between the lines - she pieced together gaps in history, and knew where to place her beloved aunt, and was fiercely proud of the things she'd done.

She grew older, and she was a sucker for the scandal of Padmé's love live, mysterious and whispered about, and Padmé hadn't cared for their opinions at all – and then she tasted a hint of Padmé's political ideals in old documents she found in the attic, in a box the Empire hadn't _taken –_

Because the Empire had taken everything, Pooja remembered that, too – Stormtroopers, called Clones back then, had come to the house shortly after her aunt's funeral and torn it apart; they removed her clothing, her trunks, anything personal that had belonged to Padmé and Padmé alone, and Gran-Mama had only managed to hide and save that one trunk –

Pooja had viewed her aunt like a secret idol, nursing a desire to be like her, but cursed with the blacklisted Naberrie name –

Pooja had bravely volunteered when an envoy of Emperor Palpatine visited their house and, without explanation and completely unexpectedly, demanded that a member of the Naberrie family put him or herself forth for the Galactic Senate –

 _What's going to happen to us?_ – Ryoo had cried, her face pale with fear – _I thought we were blacklisted_ – _Mami, you always said they would kill us –_

 _It's an attempt to appear merciful_ – Pooja's father had said stiffly – _Welcome, back into the fold, a disgraced family –_

It was Pooja's father who had felt it would fall on him to step up, but Pooja had gone behind everyone's back and sworn the oath to the envoy of the Galactic Senate and to the powerless Queen of Naboo –

Her parents had been furious; her grandfather had withdrawn even more than he had after Padmé's death, her grandmother had worried – and Pooja went to the Senate and sat in Naboo's traditional seat, her name forgotten by many and reviled and mocked by others, and she learned quickly she was there for a political statement only, and opening her mouth would be a death sentence –

Instead she watched, captivated, as someone else said everything she wanted to say, shouted it even, emphatically, yelling at Grand Moffs and Imperial Governors and caring not a whit for her own safety –

Pooja, who had grown up nursing a desire to carry on Padmé's legacy, was trapped by fear and shackled by shadowy threats against her life and family, she was forced to bite her tongue while the nineteen-year-old Princess of Alderaan, fearless, sat across the Senate Arena and flicked her wrist at threats and laughed at insults and swore up and down that she was not going to stop fighting the crushing power of tyranny.

She would think – _Padm_ _é must have been like this._

She would think – _I wish I was brave like her._

But Pooja's family was under direct threat, and she held her tongue, and she toed the line – and then, Alderaan paid the price for its Princess' fervor, and Pooja's fear turned into anger and shock; she wanted to fight, but she was afraid to make that choice for her family – for Papa, and Mami, and Ryoo, and Ryoo's gorgeous little children –

She retreated to Naboo, laying low, hiding once more with the rest of her family, seeking bits of news about the Rebellion and hanging on to hope, and she developed a habit of stealing away to Padmé's secluded, flowery Lake Country resting place and sitting by her grave, thinking to herself, or talking out loud.

Pooja's closest confident for the unstable, scary years of the full scale Galactic Civil War had been an embossed gravestone, surrounded by trees, marking the bones of a woman who inspired her and gave her strength –

It was to that haven she ran now, when the silence that permeated her family's resort home became too heavy, and she felt she was about to burst with shock and excitement –

Bail Organa and Luke Skywalker were sitting in the grand parlor, and when their story had finished, Pooja, rapt for the entire tale, had been the only one to burst into a grin.

Her sister turned her head away, speaking quietly with her husband – and Sola covered her mouth in quiet shock, shaking her head – _Anakin?_ – Sola gasped through her fingers – _Anakin_ – _Viceroy, Ani wasn't_ –

Gran-Papa was the only one who seemed unsurprised – Gran-Mama as well, even; both were quiet, subdued, until Jobal said – _Yes, we knew Anakin was the father –_ and Ruwee said – _and we knew what he became, as well._

Luke Skywalker was beside himself – _How?_ He asked – and Ruwee explained, quietly: _He came to us after the funeral_ – and Luke wanted more, but Ruwee closed his mouth, and turned to Bail _– You do not expect us to believe this without genetic testing - ?_

There were so many loose ends suddenly dangling all around the room – Luke had his hands full of them, so did Bail Organa, and Pooja knew her family had their own secrets and answers. There was so much that could so easily be integrated to form a tapestry of a story and in the uproar – _Of course, Ruwee, Luke knew that would be requested –_

Pooja leapt up, still smiling, her heart racing, and darted from the room.

Her father yelled after her, as did her mother - she ignored them, running through the halls of the resort, leaping over one of her nephews to get out the back door and down the cobblestone path –

Down by the river, in the overgrown family plot, neglected, but not forgotten, she burst through the wrought iron fence and found Padmé's Hydenock tree, dropping down to her knees.

Grinning madly, she spread her palms over the yellow irises and blue forget-me-nots, pushing aside the flowers and soft green grass to run her fingers over the name –

 _Padm_ _é Amidala Naberrie._

She shook a deep breath, her eyes stinging – she felt elated, and curious, and all kinds of wild things, but mostly, she felt some sense of justice, some sense of an ability to come to her aunt with good news, a blessing – _your baby,_ _Padm_ _é – babies,_ she thought _– they're okay, they're alive –_ _I think you'd be so proud - !_

"Aunt Mé- Mé, you won't believe," she gasped – and then laughed at herself, bowing her head, "well, I suppose _you_ will," she amended wryly – "Oh, but the things Bail Organa just told us!"

* * *

 _Prologue_

* * *

.


	2. One

a/n: and so we begin. this is an installment in the Identity 'verse, not a sequel. perhaps that sounds like semantics, but let me be superstitious. sequels usually suck; anthologies fare better (i can only hope). refresher notes: this story 'verse operates on the following timeline:

ANH (0 ABY), then, three years later, ESB (3 ABY), then, one year (ish) later, ROTJ (4 ABY), with Leia's age in ANH as 19, and her age finishing ROTJ (in my book, based on the assumption she has a birthday, as 23).

thus within this next installment, Leia has turned 25. per the end of Identity, Leia and Han were married, and within the year that Bail & co. adjusted to life post-Alderaan, New Republic control was codified institutionally and in the form of a ratified new constitution, though of course governments are always working, always in motion. as illustrated in the prologue, Bail and Luke have approached the Naberries to engender a reunion. some themes here are taken from Tatooine Ghosts, and The Truce at Bakura (EU books) but the only canon ascribed to is the OT (+ prequels).

this story 'verse continues to be AU.

* * *

 _One_

 _6 ABY_

* * *

There was a flurry of activity in the apartment. The workday was mostly over – mostly, in that Leia Organa Solo was still accepting comm and holo calls if they were deemed pressing; however, the chronometers would soon tick over to an hour indicating the day was truly over, and her afternoon of working from home would neatly pass into the start of a two week leave of absence.

Officially, the Ambassador would be on vacation time, though Leia herself was wary of calling the trip a _vacation_ – vacation implied relaxation, sweet nothingness, and little personal stress and distraction; this impending time away from work was unlikely to be so – unburdened.

Her honeymoon – now _that_ had been unburdened, perhaps the first truly blissful stretch of time she had experienced since the day she turned nineteen. She still thought about it frequently, and she was sure she would for years to come – though for now, it was fresh in her memory, as it had been a mere six months since that time secluded on Corellia.

 _Six months_ – it felt like forever, and at the same time, it felt like the blink of an eye. It felt like nothing had changed, _and_ it felt like everything had changed – a year and a half ago, she had been Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan, interim New Republic Ambassador At-Large; she'd been barely twenty-four, struggling with the shadow of her ancestry and the loss she'd suffered during the war, bearing the burden of being the last member of her house; she'd been living with Han, fighting odds that went against their relationship –

\- Now, _presently_ , she was Leia Organa Solo, last Princess of Alderaan, permanent – for the term, at least – New Republic Ambassador At-Large; she was twenty-five, newly christened Commissioner of the Galactic Reconciliation Corps, coping with the shadow of her ancestry in a manner that was balanced, rather than suffocating; she was married to Han, and the detractors had been silenced by the vows she'd spoken, the necklace around her throat and the blessing of the Viceroy of Alderaan himself – Bail Organa, returned from certain death.

Her father, along with the rest of the Alderaanians who had languished in the unnatural, suspended hell their ship had been thrust into upon the planet's destruction, had been back in the present for almost a year and a half. They thrived – and struggled – in various states of existence, and both Bail and Rouge, as the last heads of House Organa, found increased purpose in leading the community, while Leia integrated threads of so many worlds and experiences and guided them progressively into the new world order.

She did it with determination, with distinction – and with considerable faith in the future.

The successes and advancements in the political arena – in her career, and in the New Republic overall, demanded a sort of balance in her personal life; she had Luke to remind her that she owed it to herself to continue confronting their bloodline and keeping her head in the right place, and she still had obstacles to overcome there.

Her brother had so patiently waited for her to bask in her post-wedding euphoria, and to seize on the triumph of the blooming democratic government, and so it had come to be her turn to acquiesce to what he needed – he often reminded her that she needed it, too; that they would all find healing and answers in this – and _that_ was why she found herself handling last-minute official dealings with her office while packing and organizing things for the _vacation_ to Naboo.

Later this evening, she and Han would leave Coruscant to join Luke and Bail at the Naberrie family estate in the Nubian Lake Country.

Bail, in keeping with his offer almost a year earlier to be the bridge between Luke, Leia, and their birth mother's family, had departed for Theed almost two weeks ago. There he had connected with Luke, who was up to his ears in research on Sheev Palpatine and his early connections with the Sith in the Naboo Archives, and they had gone on to the Naberrie estate.

Leia had introduced Pooja Naberrie to Luke, and orchestrated her father's visit to Naboo through Pooja as well – and it was quite a bit of subtle maneuvering and dancing around that was intended to be as unassuming and unthreatening as possible.

Leia had a – deeply personal desire to be as gentle with the Naberries as she possibly could, and for all his aching to know his roots, Luke did as well; they both knew all too well what it was like to be ruthlessly shocked with the truth about Darth Vader.

And so it stood that Bail Organa undertook the daunting task of shedding light on the shadowy circumstances that surrounded Padmé Naberrie's death; Luke went with him, ever a calming, peaceful presence, and perhaps to be the living face of the story – and after a handful of days filled with loud radio silence and apprehension on Leia's part, her father called to tell her the Naberries were receptive to forging ties.

That was that; Leia took a deep breath, submitted the leave she had tentatively placed on hold, and braced herself for the oncoming – maelstrom.

She stood near the holovision in the living room now, one arm wrapped around her middle, the other propped on her elbow, fingers brushing her forehead as she watched the Media scrawl across the screen in front of her, and half-listened to the words her assistant was relating to her.

Semi-summer, cooling breeze wafted in from the open balcony window, and Leia frowned.

"No, for all intents and purposes, Winter will be in charge of that," she murmured, answering Tavska's question.

Her assistant made a neat note on a scheduling pad.

"Noted. Dansra Beezer is still to be your proxy in any military ceremonies, medal requests – et cetera?" Tavska asked, moving down the list.

"Yes," Leia agreed, "ah – please remind me to leave her a note of encouragement," she added, smiling absently - Dansra had seemed anxious and overwhelmed to be ask to stand in for the Princess in any capacity, and Leia wanted her reassured.

"Can you re-confirm the cut-off level within the hierarchy?" Tavska continued politely, making more notes. "Lowest ranking members who you will be open to contact with while on leave?"

Leia, eyes on the holo for a moment, frowned, without answering –

Two female newscasters, gossiping – _Well, it's not out of line to assume the Princess may be taking personal time for, ah, medical reasons – Oh, you think she's pregnant? I wondered how long it would take – that honeymoon stage, you know - !_

Leia flicked her eyes up towards her lashes, gritting her teeth, and turned her head back, clearing her throat.

"Heads of State," she murmured in response, shaking herself a little, "as well as New Republic confirmed Ambassadors only – no calls from those who have not been vetted and approved, most of them are only asking for me to vouch on their behalf," she said a little tensely – "Any former Alliance High Command is authorized," she said, pausing to think if she was leaving anyone out – "Family, of course," she gestured around; both Winter and Rouge were around here somewhere, "Chewbacca," she said slowly, and then nodded emphatically –"Yes, that's it."

Anyone else who was important to her would be present on Naboo – and other issues could pend until she returned.

Leia put a hand to her head, glancing at the holo screen again – there was another comment about whether or not she was going to have a baby – _kriff_ , she was barely married – every time someone mentioned it she felt this awful, pulling tension in her chest –

"Ahhh," Leia mumbled, trying to catch her train of thought.

Tavska stood in front of her, calm and patient as always, her eyes held at the perfect sort of angle – she was looking at Leia expectantly, but not demandingly, and she wasn't looking away in awkward avoidance, either.

Leia stared at the holo for a moment – so much of the Media blitz regarding herself and Han had fizzled after they married and the drama seemed to have died down, but it wasn't before the boredom of relative galactic peace re-focused their attention on the personal lives of public figures –

Chewie roared something from his hammock room, and then, abruptly, the holo screen Leia was staring at flicked off into darkness. She blinked, taken aback, and felt a hand on her shoulder.

Without a word, Han leaned down and kissed her temple, lingering there for a moment, his touch steadying. Leia breathed out, and blinked at Tavska pointedly.

"Effective tomorrow morning, Winter is, essentially, me," Leia said. "Rouge is the acting Bail Organa," she said, almost comically. She paused, and glanced towards the kitchen, where her aunt was doing – Sith knew what. "She's a figurehead, and I think she knows that."

Tavska nodded blithely.

"Miss Verlaine is the real Bail, yes?" she clarified.

Leia nodded – her father had taken Evaan Verlaine to his staff after she had retired from her position with the intelligence corps. He remembered her from the days she was personally mentored by Breha, and she was an excellent resource for him as he handled his position as Viceroy in the context of the homeless Diaspora.

Han put both of his hands on Leia's shoulders and started rubbing lightly, insistently.

"Leia," he drawled, almost edgily.

"Yes, yes; alright," she sighed, glancing at a chronometer. "What was that last order of business, Tavska?" she asked – hadn't one communiqué come in, just as they were finishing up? Leia was sure she had heard it.

Tavska hesitated.

"It's not an order of business, Your Highness," she said quietly, pulling the datapad to her chest and crossing her arms across it. "It's notifications on the buzzwords you asked me to flag – there _are_ some questions brewing about why you're going to Naboo in unofficial capacity, but they do not seem particularly rabid and, ah, there's no undue interest," she explained.

Leia nodded, and Tavska inclined her head at the now blank holo screen.

"It all appears to be an extension of that kind of gossip," she remarked mildly.

Leia's shoulders tensed, and she knew Han felt it; he stopped moving his hands for a moment, and then just pressed down soothingly. He pulled his hands off her, and she felt his fingertips brush her neck as he stepped away.

"Yes; well I'm afraid they'll be disappointed," Leia said crisply, inclining her head at her assistant. "Thank you, Tavska," she dismissed kindly.

Tavska gave a low bow, and inclined her head twice – respectfully to Han and Leia each – before turning to gather her things and begin taking leave. Leia watched her a moment – Tavska herself did not know why Leia was taking a personal trip to Naboo, but the blessing about her was she did not care; she was as loyal and tactful as Leia could ever hope for – and then she turned to Han, shaking her head.

She grit her teeth, and he caught her shoulders again, smiling a little. He dropped a kiss to her forehead again. She paused a moment, closing her eyes, but gently shook him off.

"I'm going to change," she murmured.

"Ignore the press," Han said bluntly, shrugging at her.

She gave him an irritable look and pushed her hair back, leaving the room – he seemed so, so unbothered by the _constant_ speculation, and yet it rattled her more than she'd like to admit – she wanted to work, enjoy her marriage, and these strangers, these vultures, wanted her to confront questions she wasn't ready to ask herself yet –

Leia made her way into the master bedroom, where Han had allegedly been packing their things for the journey – in actuality, it simply looked like a hurricane had charged through their bedroom, and Leia rolled her eyes. She stood by the bed and ruffled through a bunch of the clothing he had out, searching for something comfortable to wear on the flight.

Slipping out of her formal dress, she stood in her underwear and plucked through half-heartedly folded clothing, seeking a specific t-shirt – with her other hand, she rubbed absentmindedly at her lower abdomen, just where the hem of her panties rested.

She frowned as she pulled out the t-shirt, shaking herself – no, Han was right; she should be ignoring the press. She always had before – she was professionally trained to handle them – it just so happened that this sort of gossip struck a nerve with her.

Leia pulled the t-shirt over her head, slipping off the strapless corset-type bra she had been wearing and neglecting to put another one on, and she pulled on a pair of worn leather trousers. She cuffed the hems to keep them from getting caught under her heels, and let out a breath, shaking her head – no point in dwelling on obnoxious, nosy pressures from the press; she had daunting issues to face, she had family to meet – family history to excavate and dirty laundry to air.

Chewbacca and Han were arguing somewhere, and Leia shoved around some clothing options with another roll of her eyes, adjusting both suitcases. She was about to leave when she caught sight of a flash of red fabric in Han's suitcase, and frowned, stepping up to grab it.

She hooked the bikini bottom around her finger and glared, shaking her head – she smirked a little and returned it to a drawer in her closet; she had told Han numerous times that no matter how secluded the Lake Country was she would not be donning the honeymoon bikini, and here he was, trying to sneak it in.

She neatly replaced it with her conservative option, a nice, dark green one-piece that tied around the neck, and then threw some of Han's clothes on top so he wouldn't notice.

"Han," she called, making her way out of the bedroom.

He met her in the hall, leaving his argument with Chewie.

"I asked you to pack," she noted.

"Yeah, I was – gettin' there," he said sheepishly.

Leia arched a brow, amused.

"What's wrong with Chewie?"

"Oh, nothin'," Han said. "He said I was sassin' Aunt Rouge."

"Were you?"

Han gave her an innocent look, and pointed to himself, silently mouthing – _me_? Leia grinned, shook her head, and patted his side, pointing him back into the bedroom to finish packing – she'd take care of her own stuff, mostly, in a moment, but he'd have to go get the _Falcon_ ready here soon.

"I wasn't," Han said loudly, hoping Rouge would hear him. "All I did was walk into the kitchen."

"I had to see that _ghastly_ mess of a face," Rouge retorted.

Leia leaned against the wall in the hallway for a moment, looking after Han, and he drew his hand across his jaw proudly, tapping his chin with a smirk – in classic Han Solo fashion, he had been out a few days ago with some of the guys from the Rogue Squadron, and he happened to run across an old, ah, acquaintance who had a score to settle.

Leia tilted her head, and winked fetchingly.

"I think it's _dashing_ ," she whispered, affecting a swoon before she pushed off the wall and made her way to the kitchen.

Han's charming – _You should see the other guy!_ – Response to Rouge's outraged shrieking at his somewhat public brawl, as well as his scraped up jaw and shining black eye, had done nothing to assuage how offended she was that he would dare connect Leia with such base behavior, even by association, and thus his very presence currently counted as purposely antagonizing her.

Leia would say that broadly, overall, Rouge's feelings towards Han could be classified as accepting – pleasant, even, and bordering on fond – however, she was still prone to fits of shock over his brasher nature, and she had an irritating habit of withdrawing into snobby moods. It was a process – it was all a process, even so many months later – and Han did almost maniacally enjoy getting on Rouge's nerves.

She shook her head and rounded the corner.

"Aunt Rouge," she began, leaning against the counter – her aunt was occupied in the kitchen, idling about; she had come over to see them off, and even if Leia found everyone's presence to be a small nuisance, it was cozy, and homey.

Rouge set down a bottle of wine she was admiring – a sparkling white that had been given to her niece by a Sultan from Malastare - and turned around to look at Leia pleasantly. She abruptly put a hand to her chest and stumbled back, her eyes widening.

"Good heavens, what are you wearing?"

Leia blinked. She glanced down at her attire – for Sith's sake, one would think she had walked into the kitchen completely naked.

"It's a t-shirt," Leia supplied.

Rouge eyed her, appalled – she had seen Leia in casual clothing before, of course; nice, silk long-sleeved shirts with demure necks, made for reclining with close family members of friends, but this – this was an atrocity, in her refined eyes.

"It's my t-shirt," Han yelled from down the hall, obviously amused by what he was overhearing.

"You're going to wear that out?" Rouge asked – or rather, demanded, clearly immensely put off by the very idea.

Leia lifted a brow.

"I'm going to wear it on the _Falcon_ ," she replied blandly.

"It's filthy!"

"It isn't," Leia said, plucking at a hole in the sleeve blithely. "It's just worn. I think Han got it when he was my age."

"What if someone were to see you in that?" Rouge asked faintly, holding her palm out – there were cartoonish bloodstripes down the side, along her ribs, and the front was emblazoned with an image that advertised a Corellian amber ale.

"I expect the galactic order would collapse and Sheev Palpatine would rise from the depths of his fiery grave to personally chastise me," Leia retorted, deadpan.

Rouge scowled at her.

"You cannot wear that out, Leia!"

"I'm wearing it on the trip. It's comfortable," she said patiently. "It's fine enough for the _Falcon_."

"Don't worry, Aunt Rouge, I'll take it off her on the ship," Han yelled.

Rouge huffed at Leia.

"Why is he like that?"

"Why do you still react to him?" Leia retorted, amused.

Winter slumped against the doorframe, reappearing from a quick brief she'd had with Tavska before the assistant left, and joining in the conversation enthusiastically.

"Why has no one thrown my shirt, and myself, onto a dirty ship floor lately?" she lamented, drawing Rouge's scandalized attention immediately.

Rouge gave her a piercing look.

"Winter, will you please refrain from speaking like that. You'll start gossip about yourself," she snapped. "There will be _rumors_."

Rouge said 'rumors' in such a way that it managed to convey her concern for Winter's _chastity_ , which of course, brought small, slightly suppressed smiles to the younger women's lips.

Winter draped herself against the door dramatically.

"Aunt Rouge, I'm just – so distraught, I fear I'll be an old maid!" she simpered.

Rouge gave her a sharp look.

"You have plenty of time. You have a nice man courting you, and he can wait."

Winter flung out her hand accusingly, teasing Leia.

" _She_ didn't wait!" she hissed. " _She_ let a man – "

"Bail is not here to stop me from popping you in the mouth," Rouge said loudly.

Winter folded her arms, and smiled wryly, shaking her head affectionately. She turned her head to Leia and lifted her brows a little, beckoning over her elbow.

Leia nodded, and stepped up to put her hands on Rouge's shoulders. She stood on her toes to give her aunt a small hug, and brush a kiss to her cheek.

"Don't smack Winter; she's only having fun," she murmured.

Rouge sniffed derisively, and shot them a look. She folded a hand towel near her and took a step back.

"I am going to go ensure Han has packed you some decent clothing," she said narrowly, stepping around Leia – though not before patting her hand gently and giving her a smile.

Leia met Winter in the kitchen doorway, and they looked down the hall.

"Well, how do we think that interaction is going to go?" Winter asked, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Hmm," Leia drawled, tilting her head towards her friend's. "I expect Rouge to choose very neat, well-put together outfits for me, and I expect Han to offend her by insisting I won't need any underwear packed."

"Ah, I disagree," Winter returned, holding up her hand in imitation of a thoughtful academic, "I propose that Han will be showing her all of the extravagant lingerie you wear for him."

Leia laughed, and Winter took her elbow, pulling her into the living room. Chewbacca gave a mild roar of greeting, looking up from the rucksack he was tightening on the decorative table – he was bundling up the candles Leia had left on the table for him to take to Malla.

"Hold on a moment, Winter," Leia murmured. "Chewie – I know candles are, ah, likely an absurdity on Kashyyyk, but those are from an Alderaanian candle maker – they burn extremely cleanly – "

 _[I am sure Malla will love them, Little Princess,]_ Chewbacca murmured warmly. _[Absurdity or not, she is always fascinated with the off world gifts you send her.]_

Leia beamed – Chewie was off to visit his family for the two weeks she and Han would be on Naboo, and Leia had taken care to send some things along with him for his mate and cub. Despite not seeing either of them since the wedding, she had never forgotten how kind and welcoming both Malla and Lumpy had been to her, and she had sent them small trinkets more than once – on the occasion of Lumpy's birthday, and on the occasion of Malla and Chewbacca's anniversary which he had, of course, missed, despite Han's annoyed insistence that he go home for it.

The life debt precluded frivolous holidays – but Leia had prevailed upon him finally, this time, and Chewbacca understood; Han was in virtually no danger on a world as innocuous as Naboo, and the Wookiee would be a bit out of place in the impending situation.

"Are you heading out?" Leia asked.

 _[Soon,]_ Chewie answered. He straightened and eyed the hall warily. _[Perhaps I will go make sure Han does not disgrace himself around your aunt.]_

"Too late," Winter snorted, smiling warmly at the Wookiee.

Leia sighed and turned to Winter as Chewie ambled down the hall. She arched her brows, sitting down on the edge of the sofa arm and peering up at her foster sister expectantly.

"Would you mind if I stayed in your apartment for a night here and there?" Winter asked, folding her arms loosely. "I know you've asked me to look after it again – "

Leia nodded, lifting her shoulders simply.

"I wouldn't mind – of course," she agreed. She cocked a brow. "Rouge driving you insane?"

Winter lifted her eyes.

"It isn't her," she said. "Well, she's – she doesn't have Pasha to fuss over, so it all goes on me," she confessed, wincing. "I don't mind much, though; she gets so anxious, and I think she's very nervous without family near her," she assessed.

Leia nodded, frowning slightly.

"Tycho is back on Coruscant tomorrow," Winter confided. She gestured vaguely towards the back bedroom. "Regardless of how I like to tease her, I do like to respect Rouge in theory, and I can't sneak him in – "

"His place?" Leia asked quietly.

"Ahhh, he's a single male in the military; he uses barracks housing," Winter said with a frown. "I'm an adventurous gal, but I'm not about to put on a show for half the former Rebel Alliance."

"You really need to get your own apartment," Leia said lightly, and Winter put a hand to her head dramatically.

"Yes, I know, I just can't pick one," she groaned at herself – which was the running issue; Winter was actively trying to find her own place, but she was finding herself to be frighteningly choosy about settling.

She sat down heavily on the sofa, shaking her head.

"I think I am – possibly – wary of leaving the – nest," she said, with a self-aware grimace. She frowned, closing her eyes. "It was myself, Bail, and Rouge for so long," she trailed off.

Leia nodded, and reached out to rub her knee.

"Well, you're welcome to bring Tycho over," she said. "I like the two of you together."

"He's a dashing thing, isn't he?" Winter said fondly.

Leia nodded, and then thrust out her finger, pointing at Winter seriously.

"There's a spare bedroom," she said, narrowing her eyes authoritatively.

Winter smirked.

"Do not have sex in my bed," Leia ordered.

Winter clasped her hands to her chest.

"I would _never_ – "

"You _did_ ," hissed Leia, "you did on Alderaan, you – _brat_ – "

"Technically," Winter said, lifting her chin primly, "the bed in your room at the Autumn Castle was an Antilles family heirloom."

Leia did not look amused. She pointed at Winter again for good measure, and lowered her chin, refusing to let Winter look away.

"Do not have sex in my bed," she repeated.

Winter held up her hands, capitulating – she nodded, and Leia relaxed her shoulders, giving Winter a lingering glare for good measure. She actually had been angry about that little stunt, back when they were eighteen, and she would absolutely take offense to anyone in the bed that she considered strictly hers and Han's.

They both turned their heads at the sound of an annoyed huff, and Rouge stormed into the room, smacking her hands together as if she was washing them off. Han strolled in after her, and Chewie followed, glaring vaguely at both of them.

Rouge shot a stiff glare at Leia.

"I don't know what you see in him," she said snippily.

"Aw, Aunt Rouge," Han drawled, leaning against the living room wall. He grinned, turning his head to accentuate his black eye.

"He is insisting you do not need – that you do not wear – undergarments," Rouge began tensely.

Winter tilted her head.

"You were right," she conceded to Leia.

Leia shrugged.

"I know him well," she sighed, before turning a mild look of reprimand on Han. She tilted her head, and pressed her lips together pointedly. "Han. Stop."

Chewbacca gave a sarcastic growl to reinforce Leia – _[I told you, you're pushing your luck, Cub.]_

He ignored Chewie, and grinned at her, shrugging, and nodding obediently.

"I don't know why you insist he needs to go on this trip," Rouge said, shifting on her feet edgily. "He looks like he's just been released from prison," Han rolled his eyes, and Leia watched a little uncertainly, unsure if Rouge and Han were about to go from their sort of friendly bickering to actual tension – "with those – injuries on his face – and he can't comport himself decently," she trailed off, folding her arms.

Leia leaned back a little, crossing one leg over the other. Her toes dangled, brushing the carpet without resting on it.

"He's my husband," she said pointedly. She furrowed her brow slightly. "There's no scenario where Han doesn't go to Naboo to meet these people, Aunt Rouge," she continued pointedly. "He's my family."

" _We_ are your family," Rouge said, putting her palm to her chest with agitation. She ran her hand up to her neck and plucked at loose strands of her braid, shaking her head – Winter sighed, and Leia shared a subdued look with her –

Rouge was struggling with the idea of the Naberries in her own way; perhaps she viewed it as losing Leia to a more real sense of blood, though Leia hardly imagined ever feeling that way. When she said _we_ like that – Leia understood it to mean Organa, Alderaan – a hostile sort of push-back against anyone else who wanted to be Leia's family, and it was endearing, if a little unfair to the Naberries, as they'd been jilted, as far as family went, without their knowledge.

She didn't like the idea of Leia's extended family, and she was vehemently opposed to the idea of anyone being brought into the fold concerning the secret of Leia's parentage – she knew it was a battle she was going to lose, and was already losing, but it was still a sore spot.

"Aunt Rouge," Leia said softly – kindly. "I barely know Pooja Naberrie. I've never met any of the others. I grew up with you," she said simply. "That will never change."

Rouge sighed. She put her hands to her face thoughtfully, and then smoothed her hair down, composing herself, and nodding.

"I have no doubt you'll charm them," she said, if a bit resigned. "As for _your husband_ ," she said, almost scathingly, shooting a glowering look at Han, "he needs a healthy dose of finishing school."

Leia nodded solemnly.

"I promise you that I will give him some finishing tonight."

Rouge nodded curtly, turning to Winter – the comment went entirely over her head, but Han cast a delighted look at Leia, amused by the brazen joke _and_ the prospect.

Rouge sighed vaguely and folded her arms, remarking, without a second thought –

"You ought to consider what little heathens your children will likely be," she said, gesturing lazily at Han, "with him as their father."

Han did move forward at that comment, his brow darkening.

" _Hey_ ," he snapped, and even he himself wasn't immediately sure if he reacted aggressively because he was personally offended, or because he knew, _he knew,_ Leia was beyond hypersensitive to that kind of talk and he did not want the start of their trip ruined –

Leia looked shocked for a moment, and then her eyes turned cold, her jaw pulling tight.

"Han is the last of my worries," she said icily. She stood up, holding up a hand, palm out, to placate Han a little. She tilted her hand a few times slightly as if gesturing Han to step back – _please, Han, let me handle this; it's better if it's me._ "Aunt Rouge, you are more than welcome to snark back and forth with Han; I know he instigates it, and I know the both of you find some common ground in it, but you are _not_ entitled to disrespect him."

Leia stopped for a moment, making sure Rouge was listening – there was a certain point when irreverent bickering became genuinely unacceptable, and she felt her aunt was out of line to insult Han's – to insult Han like that.

"Han is not an aristocrat, but that does not make him a lesser man. I would never have married someone who wouldn't be a good father."

Han eased back against the wall, silenced more by her last words more than anything else. He glanced to the side at Rouge, and Winter shook her head, blinking reproachfully.

"That was almost cruel, Rouge," she said calmly.

There was a small silence, and then Chewie spoke with a gentle tone, holding up one arm to sling his rucksack over his shoulder. He perched it on the bowcaster, notched it to his bandolier and inclined his head.

 _[It is normal for tensions to run hot before space travel and high stress events,]_ he said quietly. _[I think it is time we leave Han and Leia to their final arrangements for the trip.]_

Winter nodded in agreement. She stepped forward to give Leia a hug.

Squeezing her tightly, she gave Leia a chaste kiss on the cheek and stepped back to give her an encouraging look.

"You'll be okay," she said quietly – she knew how concerned Leia was about meeting these people, and how could she not be? The Naberries were being given the pieces of a puzzle they had likely given up on for all eternity, and on the heels of a finished puzzle, they had living, breathing Leia, and Luke.

Winter smiled firmly.

"They'll think the world of you," she said proudly.

Leia scoffed a little, as if to imply she wasn't worried about what they would think of her – but it was unconvincing, and she gave Winter a grateful smile, letting her step back fully from the hug.

Chewbacca, done warbling his goodbyes – and warnings about behavior – to Han, stepped forward to hug Leia and ruffle her hair a little, and then Leia turned to her aunt.

"We aren't going to part on bad terms," she said neutrally.

Rouge stepped forward and placed her hands on Leia's cheeks.

"I don't have an excuse for myself," she said, her voice shaking. "Lelila, I shouldn't have said that."

Leia nodded in silent agreement, and then smiled gently. She hugged Rouge, kissed her cheek, and stepped back. Rouge nodded, turned to leave with Winter, and then stopped. She set her shoulders back and went around the sofa to Han, taking a deep breath.

"I was discourteous," she said.

Han almost laughed. Propping his foot against the wall behind him to support himself better, he shrugged. He really wasn't that concerned about Rouge's snobbery these days; there was nothing she could do to sever his relationship with Leia at this point.

He just – he grit his teeth a little; he wished she hadn't said something that would dig right into Leia's neurosis on the genetics thing –

"I got thick skin," he said, in answer to Rouge.

She nodded, understanding that such a response was his form of polite absolution. She hesitantly reached out and patted his shoulder, giving it a squeeze, and then stepped back, giving another smile to both of them – she, Winter, and Chewbacca left – and Han and Leia remained, amidst wide-open balcony doors and a bedroom full of half-packed clothing.

Leia sat back down on the arm of the sofa and turned to him, looking at him warily for a moment before she tilted her head back and stared straight up at the ceiling – exasperated, or anxious, or perhaps just simply – tired.

He pushed off the wall and came forward, sliding his fingers into her hair loosely. He started to run his fingertips over her scalp, and she closed her eyes with a heavy sigh.

"Hey," he said gently. "You ready to get goin', Princess?"

Frowning honestly, she shook her head, and he grinned, moving his hand down and pinching her ear gently. He tugged on it, and she opened one eye and glared at him, snapping her teeth impishly.

He kissed her nose.

"I'll go get the Falcon ready," he said gruffly. "Finish up packing?"

She nodded silently, and he slid his hands from her hair, heading off – she heard him get his boots, then get a couple of other things, and then he walked back through the living room and left the apartment for the private hangar.

Leia stared at the closed door for a moment, and then she reached forward and picked up the holo clicker off the table. She pointed it directly at the receiver box and turned the silver screen back on.

* * *

Barefoot and barely clothed, Leia crossed the main hold on her tiptoes, walking lightly to avoid letting her heels hit the cold floor. She climbed into the worn seat circling the Dejarik table and crawled the length of it until she was right up against Han's side.

He lifted his arm and she leaned into him, her back half against the back of the seat, half nestled into his side. She tucked her robe around her, stretching out her legs and crossing them at the ankle, and rested her head back contently. Han let his hand fall and drape over her shoulder, his wrist brushing the side of her breast. He ran his fingers over the soft material of the robe – wool from Kashyyyk, and the best kind of fabric for keeping warm in space.

He leaned forward and, with his other hand, pushed her glass of wine closer to her.

"Hmm," Leia murmured, turning her head slightly and eyeing it. "I believe this has been refilled."

"Live a little," Han advised.

"You just want to get me tipsy."

"I was hopin' you'd get drunk and sleep with me."

She laughed.

Leia reached out and brushed her fingers along the base of the glass, looking for a moment at the dusty, cracked, and worn old datapad sitting on the Dejarik table. She sighed and relaxed into Han a little more to settle in for the night – or at least for a little while longer before they headed to bed. The familiar hum of the _Falcon's_ hyperdrive, purring as if it hadn't a care in the world, seemed to ease all of the tension in her, and the faint rhythm of Han's heartbeat reinforced the relative peace of the evening.

"How's Luke?" Han asked after a comfortable silence.

She shifted her head, curling her fingers around the stem of her glass and picking it up.

"He's fine," she murmured. "He says, you know," she shrugged. "Things have been nice, cordial. They're expecting us."

"Yeah, unless the old girl gives me any trouble, we'll dock on Naboo in their morning," Han grunted, looking up and around the main fold menacingly for a moment, as if glaring his ship into submission. He leaned forward a little to pick up his glass of whiskey and finish the last of it. " _Cordial_?" Han quoted skeptically.

Leia took a sip of wine, shrugging.

"I don't know what else they would be," she said honestly.

Han set his glass down and swept his arm around, hugging her loosely for a moment. He released her, ran a hand back through his hair, and slouched down, leaning his head back and rolling it to look down at her.

"You still feelin' okay about all this?" he asked.

Leia tilted her head back, and looked at him through her lashes a moment before straightening a little and sipping on her wine quietly. She bit lightly against the rim of her glass before answering.

"Well, I'm resolved to do it," she said slowly. "I know…that it needs to be done. It's part of a process," she continued. "I don't know if I feel okay. I – well, I don't know," she said simply.

Han ran his hand over her shoulder for a moment, listening.

She held her glass against her chest, then reached up with her other hand and rubbed her forehead.

"I can't help feeling like we're just, we've just ambushed them," she said, frowning.

Han nodded. He shrugged a little.

"You did it the best way, I reckon," he said – it wasn't as if Luke and Leia had shown up on the doorstep one day, blurted out the whole story, and expected to be welcomed into the fold.

Han thought the whole process had been rather painstaking. Leia had worked to create a good professional relationship with Pooja Naberrie; Luke had made several transparent visits to Naboo to go through archival records of the vanquished Emperor. Winter, working out of the Alderaanian branch of Leia's office, had been spearheading a commission in tandem with Pooja to re-instate and un-blacklist countless thousands of individuals and families that had enraged the Empire so, at least sparsely, the Naberrie name had been in the news of late.

Bail had then begun the process of reaching out – not altogether unnatural, as he had known their daughter, and she was now exonerated publicly, and he and Luke had made the first steps – and thus it was all arranged.

"Yes, I think we handled it as best we could," she agreed quietly. "I suppose there's no way it _wouldn't_ feel like an ambush," she mused. She started to take a drink, and then paused. "I mean – I've complained in the past about how Luke told me about Vader, but there's no scenario I can imagine in which it would have gone _well_."

Han snorted a little – she had a point there.

"Maybe I should have been there," Leia ventured hesitantly, feeling a little guilty.

Her father truly had been the best, possibly most neutral option to be their link to the Naberries; he was the one who had organized back then, and could speak personally to the events, but Luke had so earnestly wanted to be there, to personally tell them how Vader had died as Anakin Skywalker, and Leia had balked both at sitting there as if she were completely at ease with that part of the story, and at overwhelming these poor people who had – who had no idea what was coming –

Leia sighed, making an effort to calm her ceaseless nerves – she thought of Winter, and her bright, effervescent attitude about the whole thing –

" _Well, look at the bright side," Winter had chirped pleasantly, on the evening Bail had called to say they were sitting down with the Naberries. "They're about to find out their son in law was Darth Vader."_

" _How is that a bright side?"_

" _It's highly unlikely they'll hate Han."_

 _Leia laughed and rested her head on Winter's shoulder, distracted for a moment._

"Nah," Han said, cutting into her thoughts and reinforcing her choice to leave it mostly to her brother. "Luke's got that calming presence thing."

"I'm calm."

Han laughed. Leia elbowed him gently, smiling. She sipped on her wine, thinking of her quick conversation with Luke, and the tiny glimpse she'd gotten of the room he was staying in at the Naberries grand Lake Country mansion.

"Besides," Han said gruffly, "Luke needs the practice in answering the questions about Vader if you're really gonna go public."

His tone took on an edge at the end, and Leia nodded grimly. Han still didn't think it was necessary for her to share her personal family history with the galaxy, but she maintained that it was not a shadow she would ever let hang over her – _when they elect me, Han, if they elect me, they'll never be able to say I denied my truths._

"Well," Leia said heavily. "Apparently – Luke says they already knew," she said.

"Knew?" Han repeated. "About _Vader_?"

Leia nodded, her lips compressed. She set her wine glass aside, careful not to place it unevenly on the edge of the holopad on the table. She placed her hands over her face for a moment, and then brushed loose strands of her hair back, reaching for his arm and sort of – hugging it to her abdomen.

"Yes," she said quietly. "Luke said that towards the end, Padmé told her parents that she was with Anakin Skywalker. He said Jobal Naberrie – that's her mother," Leia clarified, "had assumed it was him all along, but Ruwee – that's her father – thought it was _my_ father."

Han hesitated a moment.

"Hold on – what?"

Leia let out a breath, amused for a moment. She bit her lip.

"Oh, this is confusing – ah, so, bottom line, Padmé's father thought Bail Organa had knocked her up, but her mother knew it had to be Anakin."

Han arched his brows.

"The old Viceroy had a slimy reputation after he brought you home, didn't he?"

"Leave him alone," Leia said protectively, rolling her eyes. She bit back a smirk, and twisted her fingers into Han's, squeezing his hand. "Luke said they were evasive about the Vader part," she revealed quietly. "Father asked them how they knew, but they wanted to talk more about Luke and I."

"Huh," Han grunted. "They never said anything?" he asked. "All those years, they knew this hero of the Old Republic was the same guy in the black cape – "

"Would you have said something?" Leia asked hoarsely, shaking her head. "It would have been futile – what difference would it have made?" she questioned. "And they'd just buried their daughter, with her baby – or so they thought – and they had Sola, and – well Pooja, and her sister," she trailed off.

She pulled Han's hand towards her face and kissed his wrist, letting go of him and reaching for her glass again.

"I can't imagine what they think of Luke and I," she said, wary, and apprehensive. "I mean he – he all but murdered their little girl, and Luke has his _eyes_."

Han turned towards her a little, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

"Bail says you have _her_ eyes," he pointed out.

Leia closed her eyes, lashes brushing her skin lightly. She shrugged a little – she assumed these long-lost blood relatives of hers would experience the same horror and revulsion at the idea of Vader having heirs as she did at being one of Vader's heirs – and she felt they were entitled to it, like they had a _right_.

She was still unsure what she would get out of this – what she wanted out of it, what was fair. Luke sought closeness with family; Luke had always been searching for family, and the ties meant so much to him, lacking in those sorts of bonds as he was, but Leia, _Leia_ had been raised safely and lovingly, she _had_ people she called aunt, and cousin, and grandmother.

She wanted to hear them speak about Padmé Naberrie; she felt a sense of duty to learn about the woman who had given her life – who had given her to _Breha_ , her _Mama_ , and she wanted to find some lights in the darkness of the Skywalker legacy.

In a more detached sense, in terms of her plans to run for a term as Chief of State and openly declare her bloodline for the sake of transparency – she felt uncomfortable going forward with the announcement without knowing the Naberries, without speaking with them, forging a relationship with them, hearing their thoughts on their own history – receiving their blessing.

It was their story, too, in so many ways, and Leia, having recently seized complete control of who she was, and her own narrative, understood the importance of being able to define your own life, and speak to it.

Han cleared his throat.

"Don't worry 'bout it right now, Sweetheart," he said. "Nothin' you can do right now. Can't be that bad, eh? They want to meet you."

Leia nodded. She took a sip of her wine wordlessly and then nodded again.

"You got to remind me of all of them," Han went on dryly. "I already forgot everyone's name."

Leia smiled to herself.

"Ruwee and Jobal are her parents," she said slowly – "Hers, Padmé's. Sola is her older sister, Pooja's mother. Sola's husband is Darred, and Ryoo is their other daughter," Leia paused, tilting her head, "and – Ryoo is married to Whyler, and has," she ticked up her fingers, "Indy, Iver, and Maiah," she said, "Ten – and then the littler two are twins, five-year-olds."

Han started to say something, but Leia went on –

"Sola is an art curator; Ryoo is an interior decorator – "

"Leia," Han broke in, laughing. "Don't you think they'll be freaked out that you know all of this stuff about 'em?"

Leia lowered her hand.

"I won't tell them I know," she said, rolling her eyes. "This is what I do, Han – I know things about people before I meet them," she reminded him primly.

"You didn't know anything about me," he said smugly.

Leia ignored him, and Han sighed.

"You're gonna have to write it down," he whined. "Draw me a family tree."

She laughed a little.

"You'll just give them all nicknames," she said knowingly. She reached behind her and ran her palm over his thigh. "My comic relief," she said wryly.

"You got it, Your Worship," he said charmingly.

Leia shifted and reached for both her wine glass, and the datapad – they had been looking through it before Luke placed his call, and she'd left it with Han when she spoke to her brother. Han obviously had dimmed it and waited for her to return. Leia drew her knees up and sat the datapad against them. It balanced there, and she bit her teeth lightly on the rim of her wine glass again. She rested her hand in her lap and Han noticed her rubbing her thumb along her hip.

He shifted, brushing his knuckles along her side, pressing them lightly through her robe. His thumb ran under the curve of her breast lazily, and nudged her a little.

"Is that thing bothering you?" he asked warily, though he hesitated to bring it up.

Leia shook her head. She immediately moved her hand, ceasing the movement. She cleared her throat.

"No, I think I like it better than the other one," she murmured. "I just," she paused, "It's almost a nervous habit, checking to make sure it's there."

Han made a skeptical noise – not because of her, more directed at the device imbedded under her skin. It was a new hormone implant – her other had been a more old-fashioned one, an IUD type with a five year lifespan, the same she'd been issued when she'd enlisted in the rank and file of the Rebellion. Alliance medical corps had always made do with older devices and scavenged equipment in all aspects of medicine, and Leia had been fitted with the most advanced implant on the market about a month ago.

The efficiency on her other one had started to wear out naturally, which had entirely skewed her hormones for a brief time and given her a – _scare_. She'd then had a rough start with the new one, as a droid technician had expressed consternation over her hormone configuration.

Han kept moving his hand lightly over and around her breast, skirting the subject cautiously. Leia had not handled the mere chance that she could be pregnant particularly well at all, and she had reacted almost irrationally furiously to Han's attitude – his calm attitude –

 _Leia, Leia, it's okay, honey, we'll see what happens._

 _No. No. Han – I can't – I don't want to do this – I don't want it._

He had never quite figured out what she meant by that – what she was willing to do – but it was a moot point by the end of that week; physician told her it was just the normal progression of her implant, he'd replaced it – the droid had messed with her head about her allegedly odd hormone balance – and Leia went utterly silent on the subject.

Right around the time the press remembered married people sometimes reproduced.

"Still having cramps?" Han asked neutrally.

"No," she said, her voice taking on a brisk edge. "It's fine."

Han's hand stopped moving.

"Leia," he started quietly, "You said somethin' to Rouge, earlier – "

She started to pull away, her wine swirling dangerously in her glass.

"Don't start, don't _start_ ," she said rapidly. "I don't want to –"

"Easy," he soothed, backing off hastily. He pulled her back gently and kissed the back of her head. "Never mind," he said gruffly.

Leia rested back against him tensely, ready to bolt at any moment, and he swallowed his words, tucking a few irritated curse words into the back corners of his mind – _damnit, Leia, this is going to have to be a talk at some point_ –

He filed it all away, telling himself it was just something to think about later. It wasn't anything to worry about. He didn't care either way –

She did relax again, after a long silence in which he didn't even think of finishing his sentence. She set her wine aside and then put her hands up, palms out flat, a universal signal for _halt_ – _put the brakes on._

"I need to get through this trip," she said flatly. "That's all I can think about."

Han just nodded. He cleared his throat.

"We need to," he corrected mildly.

Leia let out a breath.

"We," she agreed apologetically.

She tapped two fingers against the datapad in her lap, bringing it to life. It shimmered and blinked at her, glitching, struggling to light up – and as always, instead of it saving her page like the new, functional ones did, this one went back to its index, and she had to scroll through to the place they had been.

She shifted her head, getting comfortable against Han's side, and he picked up her wine to steal a sip, waiting for the datapad to stop its whining and fussing and rev up – back to the place they'd left off.

After a moment, a woman's voice – Shmi Skywalker's – floated through the speakers in a tinny, broken hum.

Leia jumped a little, as she always did when she turned this on –

 _Ani carved me an amulet before he left,_ the entry said, wistful, and kind, _it has a protection rune on it. I believe he is the one who will need protection – he's such an earnest boy, slavery has been difficult, no doubt, it's no innocent world – but his heart is so pure, and they say Coruscant rots you from the inside –_

Han wrapped his arm around Leia's shoulders loosely, pulling her close. He fell silent to listen; she never wanted to talk about what they heard Shmi say, but she always wanted him there for support – it was only a few days ago that she'd braced herself to delve into the diary Han had brought back so many months ago.

Leia closed her eyes – to reflect, not to rest. She listened to the voice of Darth Vader's mother, anxious about what she would hear, troubled by the dichotomy presented, and strangely hopeful for Shmi Skywalker, despite knowing how the tale ended –

Han noticed that her hand slipped back down to her hip and rested there gingerly, and he rested his chin on her head, listening –

\- _I think he'll do well with them. They say I won't hear any news. The Jedi cut all ties with family. He wants to save people, but I do wish he would just be given the chance to have a true childhood -_

\- and staring ahead of him at the various control panels across the main hold, his vision unfocused, wondering if he pressed his ear to Leia's hair hard enough, he might hear what was going on inside her head.

* * *

 _\- sad as it is, say goodbye to Rouge, Chewie, and Winter for the duration of this particular story (and prep for a whole slew of new characters)_

 _*also note: Identity's end was 6 months ago; Leia's force experience with Luke was actually about a year ago; remember that Identity has two time jumps in it_

 _-Alexandra_

 _story #339_


	3. Two

_a/n: there are so, so many new characters to introduce / keep up with / get to know - hope you enjoy them!_

* * *

 _ **Two**_

* * *

Out on the vast grounds of Varykino, in one of the several well kept, utterly beautiful gardens, Luke Skywalker sat under a tree with his newly discovered cousin, looking up at her from the ground. His back against the gnarled and sturdy trunk of the tree, he grinned, squinting in the sun that burst through the leaves.

Pooja Naberrie, possessed of a particularly youthful face under any circumstance, looked infinitely younger than her late twenties, sitting there on the lowest sturdy branch. She'd swung herself up almost immediately when they had come to a stop in this corner of the west garden informing Luke, brightly, that it was always where she'd run to hide, and to do her thinking, when they visited Varykino in her childhood.

She tilted her head back, reclining carefully into a sort of nook that had been worn down by generations of teenaged Naberrie girls hiding away in it.

"My mother told me Padmé used to camp out up here, too," she said. "When she was studying for her examinations." She looked back down at him. "You ought to climb up," she encouraged.

Luke smiled – she seemed to be the most receptive of her family. Not that the others weren't friendly, and extremely polite, but Pooja seemed to have taken the information, accepted it, and taken a flying leap into excitement, while the others were – well, Luke likened it to how Leia reacted to things, when she was ambushed with new information in front of the Media.

Diplomatic, and cool, but somehow managing to appear as if she'd known all along, asking questions that appeared to be for the benefit of everyone else while also doing her the favor of providing her subtle answers.

"Or leap up," Pooja amended, arching a brow. "Can Jedi fly? When I was very little, Ani told me they could fly."

"I'm afraid I don't like heights very much," Luke said apologetically.

Pooja grinned, bemused.

"You're a _pilot_!"

Luke looked a little sheepish.

"That's different," he said vaguely.

"I suppose it is," Pooja murmured with a shrug. She drew one leg up, and rested her elbow against her knee, cradling her chin in her palm.

Luke cleared his throat.

"Ani is what you called my father?" he ventured.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Pooja said quickly, shaking her head a little. "Yes. Well, not just Ryoo and I. Aunt Mé-Mé called him that as well. I don't think it was a unique nickname. I think everyone called him that," she mused.

"It's alright; don't apologize," Luke said. "I want to hear you reflect. Your memories are some of the most authentic connections I can experience."

Pooja tilted her head down at him thoughtfully.

"That's a very beautiful way of putting it," she said. She frowned lightly. "I'm afraid I'm not going to be _that_ helpful," she warned. "I was only four when he died."

Pooja paused for a long moment and then her brow furrowed and she lifted her head a little, hesitating.

"Or…turned?" she corrected slowly. "Is that what – the Jedi would call it?"

Luke leaned back against the tree trunk heavily, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robe. He thought about it a bit, and then shrugged.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I think they considered the Dark Side to be a death, for all intents and purposes," he went on. "That's why Ben Kenobi told me Vader killed my father." Luke plucked up some grass next to him and scattered it. "Or maybe he was just lying to me."

Luke shrugged again – he'd experienced a lack of answers from the Force lately, specifically a lack of connection with his late mentor, and it brewed only a slight bitterness that reminded him Ben Kenobi had not been entirely perfect, in certain extremely important aspects.

"I always thought he died," Pooja murmured, leaning back into her tree nook heavily. She shook her head sadly. "I told Princess Leia as much," she said. "Did you know she asked me about him, a few months ago?"

Pooja stopped a moment to recollect.

"It was before her wedding, I believe," she said. "Right around the time Naboo ratified the Everlasting Peace with Cato Nemoidia – which I _never_ thought would happen, but of course _she_ made it so," Pooja added, almost proudly. "She asked me if I knew Anakin Skywalker."

"She told me," Luke said – he vividly remembered; after all, that conversation had pushed Leia over the edge in terms of her conflict with the Force and their heritage, and no matter how well it had turned out for her, Luke still felt a stab of guilt when he thought of her bloody nose and sprained ankle in the old Jedi Temple.

Pooja slid her moccasins off and hooked them on a small branch of the tree, crossing her feet at the ankle.

"Well, I thought she was fishing for information for _you_ , because I didn't know if the name was common – and I told her Mé-Mé died before she had her babies," Pooja went on. "Obviously I did not have all the information. But it's like my mother was saying, you know?" Pooja twisted around and hung down a little, staring at Luke. "I'd never have looked at Princess Leia and _guessed_. Except now that I know, I can _see_ how much she looks like my aunt."

Luke grinned.

"It seems like we got all mixed up," he said wryly.

"How do you mean?" Pooja asked politely.

"Well I'm – I'm going by what Bail says, since I haven't spoken much to all of you about her yet," Luke warned, "but it sounds like I got Padmé's temperament and Anakin's looks, and Leia got Padmé's looks and Anakin's temperament."

Pooja chewed on her lip.

"I don't think I really knew Ani as a person," she said. "He was just…a big, heroic force. He always carried me on his shoulders," she said, relaying the same tidbit of information she'd told Leia.

She straightened up, and then swung her legs around, preparing to dismount from the tree.

"I don't really know you or Princess Leia as a person, either," she said frankly, as if suddenly realizing it.

She gracefully got down from the tree, and Luke was impressed with her agility. She left her shoes there carelessly, and sat down on the grass with him, cross-legged, and facing him at enough of a distance to give them both plenty of personal space.

"She's like Padmé, though, politically," Pooja said. She sighed, and leaned forward to press her palms into the grass. "I used to admire her so much in the Senate, when she was first elected. She was so _brave._ It's funny," Pooja said, pausing, and tilting her head quizzically, "Padmé spent the last few years of her life trying to curb Palpatine's power. Like she knew what was coming. And then you and Princess Leia overthrow him. It's a circle. Like…unfinished business."

Pooja sat back thoughtfully.

"Maybe if she was resting uneasy, she can be at peace now."

Luke smiled earnestly.

"There were so many more people involved than just Leia and me," he said, unwilling to bask in heroism. "The whole Rebellion, every fighter. They all made so many sacrifices, too." Luke thought about it a moment. "Though it was all begun by Bail," he said, "and I doubt he ever forgot Padmé."

"How could he have?" Pooja retorted. "He was raising her _baby_."

She pulled at a curl behind her ear and twisted it around her finger, grinding her teeth lightly.

"I wish I'd fought," she confessed quietly. "I was just so spineless."

"You can't say that," Luke said firmly. "You can't look at it as cowardice. Your family was on a blacklist," he reminded her. "You were protecting them. That's not –"

"It _was_ fear, though. I was scared. Ryoo and I were both scared of the Empire – Ryoo even more than me," she said honestly. "And, well – that's not an excuse, is it? Princess Leia took the risk anyway."

Luke's expression was sad, thinking of Alderaan's punishment. He crossed his legs and rested his fists on his knees, monk-like, sitting forward with his shoulders relaxed.

"I think that it's more abstract, in her case," he said slowly. "She was elected, she was the heiress to the throne – and Alderaan had always been resistant to the Empire. You were – you said you were ordered to the Senate, weren't you?"

Pooja compressed her lips, and nodded.

"Not me, specifically. I volunteered," she clarified. "When the Rebellion started causing more unrest, an Imperial Envoy brought an order directly from Palpatine – the Naberrie name needed to be back in the Senate. It was propaganda."

"You don't think it was brave of you to volunteer for that?"

Pooja shrugged.

"It was a necessity. The only other reasonable option was either Ryoo, or Mami's husband, and Ryoo had just had a baby. Darred – he's _too_ bookish. _Too_ smart for it."

Luke shook his head.

"You were still in a different position," he said dryly. "Leia had sort of been in the risk-and-subterfuge game her whole life. You had a close, extremely intimate family to worry about. Little children."

"And the Empire might have killed them, if I spoke out," Pooja said quietly, "but Anakin would never have allowed it."

Luke raised his brows, taken aback.

"Anakin?" he quoted, unused to anyone – aside from himself, and occasionally Bail - referring to Vader in that manner, especially not when he was functioning in the black suit.

Pooja shrugged, hesitating.

"Well, I," she started. "It's just – politically, it would have made more sense to kill us all immediately, back when Padmé was killed," she said academically. "Silence us. Leave no one who would possibly ask questions – and there had to be questions, even if everyone believed she died still pregnant. That whole thing was _kind_ of a scandal."

Pooja lifted her shoulders.

"Yet, we were all left alone."

Luke tilted his head thoughtfully – he knew Leia had voiced a similar opinion to her father; she'd said it to him a few times, casually, as well – she didn't understand why the Naberries had been allowed to live. He wasn't politically trained or well-versed in power dynamics, so he always wrote it off as an extension of Leia trying to cope with the fact that they had numerous blood relatives to contend with – but Pooja made him wonder if there was something else there.

Nostalgia, mercy – Vader's last act of kindness? No – Anakin's; Vader had consumed all of the light; mercy for his late wife's family would have been all _Anakin_.

"My grandparents know more about those early days," Pooja murmured, almost apologetic. "I was so little," she reflected again.

Luke nodded.

"Of course, sure," he said absently, sighing heavily. "I'm sure they're finding all of this hard," he acknowledged. "Your mother, too."

"I think so," Pooja agreed quietly. She bit her lip. "When Gran-Papa said that they knew what he became," she whispered. She shook her head in shock. "They never – well, I guess I understand why they didn't – but we asked about him," she confided. "Ryoo and I, when he didn't show up to Mé-Mé's funeral, we asked for Ani."

Pooja stopped suddenly, and looked at Luke with wide-eyes.

"I can't even remember what they told us," she said suddenly. Her shoulders fell a little. "So much happened that – must have gone over my head, and by the time I was older…" she trailed off. "I want to hear their stories, too," she said earnestly.

Her poor grandparents – sweet Jobal, and gruff, silent Ruwee, who had lived in such constant fear and worry for so long. Sola had been grown, and in the throes of her own life when all of it happened, and so they had clung to Ryoo and Pooja like children, rather than grandchildren, keeping them close, loving them – and all the while knowing that a young man they'd thought of as a family member, as their daughter's protector and closest friend, had become such a heinous specter –

Pooja shuddered – and to think, they'd thought Padmé's child, _children_ , dead with her – not even knowing to look, or to hope!

"You know – you seem to be handling the concept of Anakin Skywalker becoming Darth Vader rather well," Luke ventured suddenly. He was cautious, because he didn't want to upset her over it, but it was – a little fascinating.

When they had spoken with the Naberries – with the adults, that is; Ryoo's children had been at her Theed townhouse with her husband – Ruwee and Jobal had remained guarded and tight-lipped about the entire Vader issue, aside from confirming they knew that the black cape and mask had shrouded the man they knew as Anakin Skywalker – and Sola had seemed to find it incomprehensible –

 _Ani? You can't mean Ani. Mother – Mami, Papa – you knew this? This isn't possible –_

And Ryoo had seemed terrified by the idea, seemed to feel poisoned by it – _Aunt_ _M_ _é-_ _M_ _é would never have fallen for someone who could become that!_

Luke was painfully aware of how Leia felt about the whole thing – and fairly so, considering what she'd suffered – but the Naberries had suffered at the hands of Vader and the Empire he kept in check as well, and Luke had prepared himself for – as he mentally called it – Leia-like reactions.

He didn't plan to fault anyone for them, just navigate them as best he could – and navigate them better than he had with Leia, hopefully with her guidance on how to do so.

Pooja blinked at him warily.

"Um," she started. "I'm not – well, I'm not okay with it," she began slowly.

Luke blanched.

"That's not what I mean!" he said hurriedly. "You just, ah – you're at ease talking about it."

Pooja took a deep breath.

"Well," she said slowly, brushing her hand over some grass thoughtfully.

She pursed her lips, and looked up into the sun, trying to figure out how to explain it. She felt as if – that part hadn't really clicked. It seemed abstract, a foreign concept, some myth she might never really accept.

"I thought Anakin died," she said finally. "That was my reality for most of my life. That Anakin died when Mé-Mé died, and I missed him. As for Vader – well, he existed for most of my life, too. I didn't _know_ him, though. I didn't even really…experience his brutal side. Naboo is mostly human. If we toed the line, we weren't as bothered as other systems," she explained. "They're just such drastic extremes. I know I was only a little girl when I knew Ani but…I just don't think I can imagine him as Vader. It doesn't," she gestured at her head, "reconcile."

Luke nodded slowly – what a strange, interesting phenomenon; Pooja's concept of the two was so very opposite of what Leia had to struggle with. Leia had known only Vader, had suffered, personally, at the hands of _only_ Vader. She may never be able to see Anakin behind that mask, even if she heard pleasant stories about him – and Pooja didn't see Anakin behind the mask, either, but in a different way.

"It might settle in, in a few more days," Pooja admitted wearily. "I'll be more horrified, I'm sure," she said, muted.

Luke held up his mechanical hand grimly.

"It wouldn't be a sin to feel that way," he said. He bent each finger forward deliberately, showing off the very subtle jerkiness in how the hand moved. "I've been there."

Pooja reached out to take his hand, turning it over and examining his palm. The flat of the false hand was smooth, no lifelines and creases and little divots – perhaps the only part of it that made it seem unreal, and in its smoothness, it was living scar.

She smiled and gently gave him his hand back.

"I find it much easier to dwell on the good," she said, matter-of-fact. "At the risk of sounding – girlish, or foolish, even – I still can't believe I found out I'm related to _Princess_ Leia and _the_ Luke Skywalker."

Luke flushed a dark red, shaking his head hastily.

"We're just people."

"Heroes of the Rebellion!" Pooja crowed, leaning forward to flick his kneecap sternly. "Hold your head up!" She laughed, sitting up straight. "I'm going to feel silly around Princess Leia. I think she thought I was silly, back when we were in the Imperial Senate."

Luke tilted his head a little, hesitating.

"Pooja," he started. "I…I know you," he broke off, and then braced himself honestly. "Leia can be…prickly," he said – not unkindly, but he wanted to somehow warn his effervescent cousin that Leia's opinions on Vader were decidedly not positive, even now. "She's very reserved."

Pooja looked at him intently, and then raised a brow.

"Yes," she said slowly.

"I only mean…I pushed her a little, to reach out to you and your family," Luke said. "She wanted to wait longer, but I got her to relent. She's not interested in Anakin."

He tried to get Pooja to read between the lines – Leia could be more than prickly, she could be mean when cornered, harsh, even. Luke hesitated to call her cold, because he knew she wasn't – but he also knew her defense mechanisms, and he didn't want Pooja thinking they would instantly be like sisters. Luke himself was hard-pressed to figure out how Leia would react to all of this when in the moment.

Pooja was quiet.

"But is she interested in Padmé?" she asked hopefully.

Luke smiled.

"Yes," he answered slowly. "I – I think so. I really do."

Pooja sighed, drawing up her legs and folding her arms on top of her knees. She leaned forward and perched her chin on her wrists, her expression open, and matter-of-fact.

"I don't think we're in for a painless little reunion," she said flatly. "I can chatter away optimistically all I want, but – this is a mess."

Luke closed his eyes, bowing his head – yes, it was, and people handled messes differently – there had already been a sign of a nasty sort of tension between Bail and Ruwee, and Luke wondered if Leia's presence would exacerbate it – Jobal had stepped in calmly, but Luke still remembered the Naberrie patriarch's comment –

 _What right did you have to take her children from us?_ and then his wife – _Ru. Ru, peace, let's just process this._

"My family does want to know her, though," Pooja murmured. "You too, Luke."

He lifted his head and smiled tiredly, eyes open. Pooja grinned back at him with clear, dark eyes that he now thought were very similar to Leia's in colour, and shape.

"Can't we all find a way to heal this way?" Pooja mused. "Everything about the Empire was so, so dark – for _so_ long. And our families are at the heart of it."

Luke nodded.

"That's how I look at it," he said gruffly.

Pooja nodded emphatically, too.

"Well, so maybe there will be some fights, some slamming doors," she said – though it disheartened her, she wasn't naïve; she understood the sort of pain that would come from this, and as her euphoria over the larger-than-life, star-struck aspects of it started to fade, she felt the stirrings of anxiety, and worry over what all of it meant.

She gestured around.

"It's a large mansion," she said, "with expansive grounds – there are places to escape when things get tense."

Luke looked around him struck by the beauty—she was right, in a lot of ways, and he did anticipate growing pains, and conflict. There were questions that needed to be answered – he was sure the Naberries had plenty of their own, deeper than the shallow story Bail had related to them.

Jobal and Sola had asked for Leia's presence immediately when Bail mentioned that they all spend some time together, and so the fortnight at the retreat had been arranged - -but Ruwee had been withdrawn, cautious throughout the whole thing, and Luke still wondered how it was that both he _and_ Jobal knew of Anakin Skywalker's fate.

"I can't imagine what this must be like for Princess Leia," Pooja said quietly, plucking a dandelion weed from the grass next to her.

Luke cleared his throat, intent on lightening the mood a little.

"She's your cousin, remember," he said, a little wry. "You'll have to get used to just calling her _Leia_."

Pooja's eyes widened as if she'd never considered it.

"Goodness," she exclaimed. "I suppose you're right, her family doesn't call her Princess, do they?" Pooja shook her head, marveling. "This is all going to be so weird – _blast_ ," she swore, leaping up.

She seemed jittery, but still in a good mood, and she gestured widely.

"Would you like to see your mother's memorial stone, Luke?" she asked earnestly.

Luke stood up to go with her, brushing dirt and grass off of his robes, and Pooja lead the way out of the West garden, towards the south. Luke looked up at the stunningly crafted, turquoise marble roof of Varykino, admiring the vista of cloud-capped mountains beyond it, and he swallowed hard – the uncertain, polite newness of this was palpable, and he hoped things would go well over the course of these critical weeks.

* * *

Bail Organa found Varykino to be a beautiful, charming place – a pastoral mansion in every sense, private and spacious and delicately decorated. Bail thought it likely compared to the mountainside retreat his daughter had purchased on Corellia, though he had never been there himself. The _idea_ seemed the same – a haven, far away from prying eyes.

Prior to this, he had never personally visited; he'd only heard Padmé talk about it. He now understood why she'd always seemed to want to be back _here_ – in fact it was more than obvious _why_ this was where she had wanted to raise Luke and Leia.

In some ways, it reminded Bail of the Autumn Castle on Alderaan, right down to the flowering Hydenock trees that decorated the property – a different strain of the species, to be sure; Alderaan's were gone, but the ones native to Naboo shared their genes in some respect, and that was why Bail had commissioned a Hydenock jewelry box for Leia as her wedding gift.

"Bail," Jobal Naberrie said, speaking in her quiet, reflective way. "You needn't tire yourself out assisting us," she said. "Please, go relax somewhere – I can have a day servant set a small fire in the outside hearth. You're a guest."

Bail cleared his throat.

"I wouldn't feel right," he answered politely. "I hardly feel I can consider myself a guest," he went on grimly. "I'd call what Luke and I have done more of an invasion, than a visit."

Jobal smiled a little, and Sola Naberrie, coming back up the stairs with a vase of fresh flowers, peered around the petals with an arched brow.

"Well, I do think a tête-à-tête was preferable to a letter or some sort of public announcement," she said.

She was wry, droll even; it seemed to be her natural state of being.

"Though I'm not sure what we were all expecting when you and Luke asked to speak with us," Sola went on, pausing. She rested her face on a bannister and tilted her head, glancing from her mother to Bail. "To be entirely honest, we thought Pooja had started seeing him."

"Luke?" Bail asked, brow furrowing.

Sola shrugged.

"She had become rather close – ah, now I'm not sure close is the right word," Sola frowned a bit. "She kept appearing with him. The Naboo archives, in proximity on Coruscant," she listed. "We just couldn't figure how you were a part of it," she explained. "Ryoo suggested you might have taken Luke in as family, but when she said that all that was public was that they were related, Luke and Leia."

Sola lifted one shoulder, and then hoisted her vase again.

"Let me get that for you," Bail began.

"Thank you, Viceroy, but I'm a woman, not an invalid," Sola said brightly, sweeping off down the hall. "It's only a vase!" she called.

"Please call me Bail," he said, with a sheepish cringe.

Jobal smiled at him, and took his arm, beckoning him down the hall to follow Sola.

"Don't mind her too much, Bail," she said, following his request kindly.

"You must know _I_ take no issue with strong women," Bail laughed. "I'm Alderaanian!"

Jobal beamed, showing Bail around a corner, and up another short staircase. She led him into a demure sitting area, where Sola was setting the vase on a circular kaffe table.

"Through there," Jobal said, pointing at a door, "is one of the larger bedrooms – there's a lovely balcony with hanging tulips. I thought we would put Princess Leia and her husband in there."

Bail nodded.

"I – Jobal, do as you wish," he said earnestly. "You'll hear no complaints from us. Leia isn't the type to turn her nose up at anyone's hospitality. I've raised her better than that."

Jobal smiled at him a little sadly, and nodded, releasing his arm, and Bail bit his tongue, compressing his lips – perhaps he shouldn't speak so openly about how he had raised Leia.

"Sola, open those curtains, let the sun in the room," she ordered. "It will warm it up for when they arrive – make it seem lived in. I can't remember who last used this room."

Sola, fumbling with heavy brocade curtains, pulled them aside to light the sitting room, and ran her finger over a windowsill, blowing dust around. It swirled and sparkled in the sun.

"This was Padmé's favorite room," Sola remarked. She folded her arms, and then turned. "It has to have been used since she died, right?" she asked, seeking clarification.

Jobal looked around.

"Perhaps not," she said slowly.

"That's absurd, Mami," Sola said briskly. "I cannot believe we'd have just – boarded up the room."

"If your father had anything to do with it," Jobal murmured, and Sola sighed, shaking her head.

"It's fitting for Princess Leia, then," she said, business-like. "Not to favor her over Luke," she said, looking to Bail. "I wouldn't want Luke to think that. It's just that this bed is bigger," she gestured to the back room, "and Luke isn't married."

Bail nodded.

"I wouldn't dream of making any such accusation," he said hastily. He paused. "Though if you want to separate Leia from Han, I might have a laugh at his expense."

Jobal and Sola exchanged grins, and Jobal turned to busy herself opening some more curtains, and checking to make sure electric lighting was operating properly.

"You and I have something in common, I believe, Bail," Sola remarked mildly.

The Viceroy turned to her a little warily.

"Leia," Bail supplied, arching a brow.

Sola smiled, inclining her head.

"I mean in terms of parental experience," she said. "Whyler, Ryoo's husband? Darred and I disliked him for quite a while," Sola paused, and thought about her oldest daughter. "Of course, we disliked everything Ryoo was doing for a while," she added matter-of-factly.

Bail snorted, and Jobal turned to glance over her shoulder, adjusting some artwork on top of a bookshelf in the small sitting room.

"Whyler is a much better man than he looks. I think it was the tattoos that had us all worked up. And the, ah, career – he was a professional gambler," Jobal said, with a wink. "Perhaps he and Han will get along."

"I like Han just fine," Bail said, a little louder than he meant to – he couldn't make the mistake of setting things up so that he seemed resistant to Han still, he was far past that – and it would just make things hard on Leia if everyone here was leery of him because Bail implied they should be.

Jobal looked at Sola, bemused.

"Are you still trying to convince yourself?" Sola asked, laughing under her breath.

Bail blinked a couple of times, sighing.

"No, not at all," he amended. "Han is…he's a very good husband. He's good to Leia."

Jobal nodded.

"That's what matters most, in the end," Jobal said. "Well, we look forward to meeting them both," she added, turning and pointing. "Sola, check and see if the patio table out there is full of rust," she suggested.

Her daughter unlatched the sitting room windows and stepped out obediently, and Jobal turned, folding her arms and coming forward.

"The photos we saw from her wedding were very beautiful," she complimented quietly.

"I thought so," Bail agreed. "She and my sister chose the public ones very carefully."

Jobal sighed.

"She is _so_ hounded by the intergalactic media apparatus," she lamented, frowning to herself. "It's part and parcel of being a public figure – I remember that from Padmé's days – but it is _obnoxious_."

"Excellent way of putting it," muttered Bail. "Downright harmful, in some cases. The Media is a curse for anyone with secrets."

Jobal tilted her head, and then gave a quiet laugh.

"Oh, I had _forgotten_ – your press conference," she mused. She put a hand to her head lightly. " _I_ wasn't watching it, but Indy – that's Ryoo's oldest boy – was glued to the Holo. He's very science-minded, so he followed your miraculous rescue religiously," she explained. "He ran in to tell me it was like a soap drama."

Bail looked moodily towards Sola, moving around out on the sitting room patio. He nodded, and Jobal sighed.

"Then the both of them, Luke and Princess Leia, having this," Jobal sighed, waving her head, "shadow hanging over them."

She thought of Darth Vader, and the tragic end of her daughter's life - Padmé's broken heart, and Padmé's broken dreams, and nothing left of them but a funeral procession and a black-caped monster standing before them –

 _No harm will come to you._

Jobal shivered, shaking her head.

Bail turned to her, his brow furrowed critically.

"You never explained – how it was you knew," he said quietly.

She looked taken aback.

"That Anakin was Padmé's – that she had married him?" she asked, pursing her lips. "Oh, she told us. She wasn't honest from the beginning, but she told us when Ruwee accused," Jobal blushed, and held her hand out, "well, you. She was very offended to hear that there were assumptions that she was involved with you. I'm sure you're glad to know she cleared your name."

Bail shifted uncomfortably – he had been disturbed to find that for a while, Ruwee Naberrie had assumed he, the _Viceroy_ , was the man responsible for Padmé's – condition. He had known that there had been rumors – of course, his own late sisters had entertained them – but sitting in front of the man and knowing he'd harbored such a thought –

Bail cleared his throat.

"That isn't what I meant," he said.

Sola stepped back into the room, gesturing at the patio and nodding her head approvingly.

"I knew it was Ani, as well," she volunteered. "She never explicitly told me, but when your sister is allowing her nieces to call a supposed bodyguard 'Uncle Ani' – you develop your suspicions," she snorted. "Padmé was very shrewd. She knew how dangerous it was to mess with the Jedi Order and their codes. But around us," Sola paused, and sighed, "I believe she often tried to tell us without having to say the words."

Sola's eyes narrowed a little edgily at her mother.

"That Ani became – that you suggest he was," she broke off, and flicked her fingers together in a snap. "This Vader theory; _that_ I never heard."

"Sola," Jobal said gently.

"I'm afraid it isn't a theory," Bail said grimly. "Anakin Skywalker did become Darth Vader."

Sola just shook her head – not in disbelief, necessarily, but in a sort of rejection of the truth. She shrugged her shoulders stiffly – not sweet little Ani, that sunshine-eyed boy who had brought out the laughter in her serious little sister, and treated her daughters like little princesses, always making them laugh and bringing them little gifts.

"You've not yet offered a reason as to why," Sola challenged.

"I don't _know_ why," Bail said flatly. " _Why_ he became Vader? That secret died with Obi-Wan Kenobi – with Padmé, even, perhaps."

Jobal stepped to the side and sat down on the edge of a sofa arm, crossing one of her legs over the other. She pressed her hand between her knees.

"Do _you_?" Sola demanded of her mother. "This is something you apparently _knew_ , Mami," she reminded her.

Jobal Naberrie shook her head, her shoulders heavy.

"It wasn't like that," Jobal said, looking between Sola and Bail. "There was no explicit revelation. It was a _feeling_."

"Papa said you knew _what he became_ ," Sola quoted. She nodded at Bail. "I think Bail is probably just as curious as to why – that certainly means other people could be alive who knew," she remarked, continuing shrewdly: "and since Princess Leia has seen fit to only reveal publicly that Luke is her brother, I assume the Anakin Skywalker connection is being hidden."

Jobal shook her head again.

"There was no _announcement_ , Sola," she said again, sharply. "It was – as I've said, it was intuition. We knew Anakin better than you. There were things," she paused, and touched her face, "there were things Padmé said, towards the end, that made us worry for her." Jobal put her hand on her hip lightly, sighing. "Vader asked to see her final resting place."

Bail's eyes widened. He stared at Jobal, shaking his head – when Ruwee had said, so coolly, that they knew about Anakin's fall, he hadn't known what to think. He had been wary – perhaps for the exact reason that Sola voiced; _who else knew, who else could still know, was it not as opaque as I believed?_ – and Luke had been enthralled, desperate to know how they had figured it out. Ruwee had changed the subject though, fallen silent; he was stiff, and withdrawn, and he held his family back, too, on that first day, instead choosing to focus on technicalities.

"Mami," Sola said sharply. "What are you talking about?"

Jobal lifted her head.

"You remember when the Clones ransacked the house in Theed?" she said quietly – and Sola nodded, while Jobal turned to Bail.

"Shortly after Padmé's funeral, Clones – Troopers, I suppose, at that point – tore apart our family home in Theed. They removed anything that had belonged to Padmé. They came for this place, too," she said, pointing to the floor underneath her – _Varykino_. "I managed to hide a trunk of Padmé's things up in the attics. We suspected it was on Emperor Palpatine's orders. A punishment."

After all, Palpatine had hailed from Naboo, originally, and he had known Padmé from her precocious youth; he knew what a threat she was if she disagreed with his methods, and decried his madness.

"Vader appeared a few days later," Jobal said. "He spoke to Ruwee and I privately."

She put her hand up to her mouth, reflecting, her shoulders falling downwards.

"He delivered the blacklist sentence," she said. "The order handed down from the Empire - Padmé's damnation," she related, "and when he finished, he said that not a single one of us would be harmed for her betrayal."

Jobal sighed, her brow furrowing.

"You can't imagine how lost we felt. The fall of the Republic, the slaughter of the Jedi – everything happened in the blink of an eye. This – Vader wasn't quite so fearsome, then, he was just a specter in a suit," she said, almost dismissively. "He was – new. Emperor Palpatine passed him off as the Sith who had lain in wait for so long, but when he was standing in our sitting room," she broke off, and then looked between Sola and Bail.

She took a deep breath.

"He asked if she was laid to rest here," Jobal said quietly. "I remember Ruwee asking – he said _'What have you done?'_ , and I was perturbed, because I could not imagine why he would ask that. I thought they wanted to desecrate the grave," she said shakily, "so I asked him to let her lie, if he had any sense of mercy in him."

Sola folded her arms, clutching her elbows; Jobal lifted her shoulders.

"He came here," she said. "A week or so later, when Ruwee and I brought the little girls with us to escape the city during the Imperial sack, there were marks, in the mud by her grave," Jobal gestured her hands in small ovals. "Someone had knelt there. For hours, I believe."

She looked at Sola, and breathed out.

"Ruwee looked at them once, and he smoothed them over, and he said – _That Vader. That was Anakin. It was him, Jo. I know it."_

Bail shook his head in disbelief.

"He kept a vigil at her grave," he repeated, astonished. "I can't – "

He started to say he didn't believe it, but he – he had no idea what Anakin had been like, in those last few months. He knew Padmé's side; he knew Obi-Wan's side – but he had been brought into the fold at the last minute, in an emergency, by happenstance – his experience at the dawn of the Empire was the loss of his friend, and the utter political ruin of democracy – he ultimately knew nothing about Anakin Skywalker's personal emotions, or his early years at the Empire's side.

Bail often forget, that when all of this occurred, the boy had barely been a man – an accomplished Jedi, pilot, and warrior, for sure – but a mere twenty-four years old; younger than Leia was right now.

Sola came forward and sat down on the edge of the round kaffe table, somewhat between where Bail stood and her mother sat. She hesitated for a long time, and then looked at Bail.

"My father has always been intuitive," she said. "I've never heard this part of the story – I only remember the ransacking of the house. I was so consumed with fear for my daughters, and grief," she trailed off. She looked at her mother. "Then he took her things for himself," she said, "not to punish us. And Force knows what happened to them. All those keepsakes that could have gone to Luke and Leia."

"I saved one trunk full," Jobal said again. She tilted her head. "Hidden in these attics. We'll pull it out one night, if the twins would like."

Sola looked confused for a moment.

"Maiah and Iver?"

Jobal laughed quietly.

"I meant Luke and Leia."

"Ahh," Sola rubbed her head. She looked at Bail wryly. "You'll have to forgive me – the twins I'm used to are my grandchildren."

"Of course," Bail said. "I…often forget myself, that Luke and Leia are twins. It was such a secret for so long, I trained myself," he broke off. Bail frowned to himself, and looked between the two women earnestly. "I do not want to – I'm trying to be sensitive to the fact that – I've known this for so many years, and you…have not."

"You might start with not explicitly reminding us," Sola said, arching brow wryly.

"Watch your mouth, Sola," Jobal warned immediately, ever a mother first.

"I mean no disrespect; it's a fact – there are going to be tensions about this," she said flatly. "Papa – "

Jobal sighed, clicking her tongue. She turned large, earnest eyes on Bail.

"Ruwee is troubled, Bail," she said simply. "He's – "

"No, Jobal, no explanations," Bail said gently, presenting his palms out flat, stopping her firmly. "He's been nothing but polite."

Jobal looked wary – her husband had been cordial, but she knew him well, and she knew there was a brewing storm beneath Ruwee's skin. He had never recovered from Padmé's death – not that any parent could be expected to recover from the death of a child, but Ruwee…he lacked healing; he lacked peace.

"I want to warn you," Jobal said honestly. "He never felt you were honest with us about Padmé's death," she confided. "There's plenty of – stress – in trying to process this concept of – Padmé's children, living, breathing, thriving all of these years unbeknownst to us, but your presence stirs up old pain," she noted apologetically, traces of that pain evident in the lines on her face. "The last time we saw you –

"You brought my sister home in a coffin," Sola remarked callously.

Her expression was stony, but Bail recognized it as a way to keep herself from getting too emotional; she seemed to have a knack for handling dark conversations with the same poise and stiffness that Leia had mastered over the years.

"Now, of course, you bring us her twins – are you an Angel of Death, Bail Organa?" she quipped. "Or one of those – what is the Basic word for it – ah; or are you a stork?"

Bail dipped his head, chin lowered, accepting their words. Sola sighed, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. She put her chin in her hands tiredly, and after a moment, Jobal turned her head to Bail, staring at him quietly until he lifted his eyes.

"What did really happen to Padmé?" she asked softly. "It all seemed so incongruous," she murmured. "It sounds like a mother's refusal to accept the truth, but there was so much high stakes political gaming going on and you came to tell us that she died…?" Jobal broke off, shaking her head.

Bail looked at her earnestly.

"I was there when she died," he said. "I promise you. Obi-Wan and I were both with her. It wasn't anything gruesome. I told the truth, when I said she died because she stood up to the Sith Empire. I just...omitted that she went through labour first. She had complications, withe Luke and Leia."

"She was perfectly healthy," Jobal pressed.

Sola sighed.

"Oh, Mami; you know how miserable it is, having a baby," she said. "And if Padmé knew about Anakin? Or," she looked at Bail for help. "Did she know? That he had a hand in the fall of the Republic, of the Jedi?"

"Yes," Bail said.

Sola rubbed her forehead.

"The stress alone would have killed me," she said flatly. Sola ran her thumb along her lower lip and then tilted her head at Bail pointedly. Before she could speak, Jobal looked upwards, her expression pained.

"She was coming _home_ ," Jobal said. "Ruwee told me…she said she was coming home." Her brow furrowed. " _'I think she's had a fight with Anakin_.' – that's what Ruwee said. I remember now. And then she was gone."

Sola cleared her throat.

"Did he have anything to do with it?" she asked. She took a deep breath. "Ani," she said heavily. "Did he have anything to do with my sister's death?" she paused, and then her eyes narrowed sarcastically. "Other than the unnecessary stress he caused her by becoming a totalitarian monster."

Bail felt the absurd urge to laugh at Sola's dry words, and he struggled with an answer for her raw question. These women were – Padmé's mother, her sister; he didn't feel like it was – _kind_ of him, to tell them that from what he understood, Anakin _had_ physically attacked her.

"Bail, if you can be honest with us in this," Sola said simply, "I think it may go a long way in thawing my father's attitude towards all you."

Bail still hesitated – he didn't mind if Ruwee Naberrie hated him; he only cared if it was going to affect Luke and Leia poorly. So he – grit his teeth, and said only what he could say: he spoke only of what he knew.

"I believe there was a violent altercation," he said stiffly, "between Padmé and Anakin."

Sola let out a harsh breath, an angry look on her face – disbelief and a desire to reject the truth, this time. Jobal closed her eyes.

"Oh, my poor sweet girl," she murmured.

She wrapped her arms around herself, and Sola got up to stand near her, resting her arms on her mother's shoulders.

"You must understand," Bail said heavily, "I'm not saying he killed her."

He wasn't so sure of himself, though; he remembered Leia's response, when she'd sat before him, learning her history with Luke at her side – _He killed her_ – and – _Luke, if you don't think you can die of a broken heart_ , _you've never had one_ –

Sola held up a hand.

"I still do not want to believe this is true, that Anakin," she broke off. "He was such a brilliant Jedi."

"Constantly on the verge of being ejected from the Order," Jobal murmured.

Bail tilted his head back and forth, nodding – that, he remembered. Padmé mentioned it frequently – _Well, they've called Anakin before the Council again_ – _Whatever for?_ Bail would ask wryly – _Oh, the usual; he's too passionate._

"I'll tell Papa about this," Sola murmured.

"No," Jobal corrected. "I will. You concern yourself with your daughters," she said simply. "Padmé must have said something to Ruwee," she asserted. "When she called him to tell him she would be home soon."

She remembered again, Ruwee's puzzling words to Vader – _What have you done?_ \- -the reckless demand that Jobal now thought was directed not at the Sith Lord, but at the Jedi he'd been – _What have you done to our baby, Anakin?_

She lifted her head.

"I know how cold he seems," she said, in defense of her husband. "It isn't that he doesn't want to know Luke and Leia."

"It's me," Bail said flatly. "I understand. There were angles of this affair that I neglected to consider, in the chaos, back then – in my haste."

Jobal said nothing, and Bail shifted uncomfortably; her tacit response was clearly an agreement. He hoped they understood that he thought he had been acting as best as he could, hiding twins – he had wanted to keep them safe – but perhaps they saw him only as some sort of selfish goblin who had stolen their family from them.

He nagged at himself internally for failing to consider that these bitter feelings might arise – he had spent so much time, influenced by Leia's personal concerns, perhaps, assuming any and all conflict, and sadness, would stem from the Anakin/Vader revelation, and the tragedy of Padmé's romance – how he had failed to consider that the Naberries might feel robbed, and wronged, was beyond him.

Sola squeezed her mother's shoulders.

"We ought to continue with getting the house ready, hmm?" she suggested. She nodded at the balcony. "There's no rust on the patio furniture, but we should send a day servant up to run the water in this suite's bathroom so it isn't ice cold for the first few days."

Jobal nodded.

"Yes, good idea," she murmured. She stood, and turned to Bail. "Will you tell me something?" she asked.

She folded her arms, hugging them to herself.

"If I can," Bail answered quickly.

"A few things, if you will," she amended. "Did Padmé – was she able to see the children?"

"Yes," Bail answered. "She gave them their names," he added. "Those names are entirely hers."

Jobal smiled, brightening swiftly – it was a small victory, but somehow, it meant so much. She had spent so many years in acceptance of what had happened, and in slowly healing grief over the loss of her youngest daughter, but she was a woman who tried to live well, and tried to see the light, and this was some light – that Padmé was able to name her babies herself.

"And I know you can't speak for Luke, but was Leia happy?" Jobal cleared her throat. "It's obvious she was well cared for, but you understand what I mean."

Bail nodded.

"Of course I must tell you that only she can really answer that," he said, "but on instinct, I would say yes."

Jobal nodded. She took a deep breath and turned to Sola.

"We'll have to find out if Luke was happy," she said. "It would ease my spirits," she said, turning back to Bail. "I don't live in the past, Bail, I never have, but it is important to me that they were _happy_."

He nodded.

Sola looked about the room, and then crossed it to open the door to the bedroom suite, leaving it open to air it out more, as well. She went through and did the same with the en suite bathroom, and then reappeared, standing in the doorway.

"When will Leia arrive, again?" she asked.

"Ahh," Bail faltered for a moment, patting his robes for a chrono – he pulled out a digital one on a string, and pressed his thumb to it, checking the date, and the notes he had made – "Late afternoon, tomorrow," he answered.

"Oh, they'll be arriving around the same time as Ryoo," Jobal said, lifting her brows. "I hope Ryoo gets in first – she'll need a chance to calm the children down – you know for them, they're meeting Holo Stars," she said, with a short laugh.

Ryoo and her husband had been occupied with work activities and the school requirements of their three children, so they had not immediately joined the others at Varykino.

Bail grinned a little at the thought of Ryoo Naberrie's young children – they, of course, had grown up with Han, Luke, and Leia's names at the top of the Empire's wanted lists – heroes of the Rebellion, larger-than-life celebrities, in a child's eyes –

"General Solo knows to dock the _Falcon_ at the long term hangar?" Sola asked, breaking into his thoughts.

"Yes, and take a lake transport up here," Bail confirmed.

"If they get anything out of this trip, it will at least be a break from the press," Jobal said, smiling wryly. "All property upwards of the long term hangar is private; Media is expressly forbidden."

"A relief if I've ever heard one," Bail muttered. "Though I think Leia anticipates more than just a break from the day to day circus," he said honestly. "I hardly think she's here just for some privacy."

Jobal and Sola shared a look, and then Sola tilted her head.

"Is she here for us?" she asked, matter-of-fact. "We can see for ourselves that Luke very much wants to create ties with us."

"Leia didn't want to ambush you," Bail said quietly. "In fact, she told Luke he should stay behind until you all were given a chance to process and reach out." Bail paused. "Luke, however, was adamant that you hear of Anakin's redemption as immediately as possible – directly from him."

Both women nodded. Jobal looked pleased, but Sola looked thoughtful, still wondering, perhaps, if Princess Leia was really resolved to the idea of this meshing of family – after all, she'd been raised as Alderaan's heiress by the close knit Organa dynasty; she likely viewed them as her family, and she likely –

"How does Princess Leia feel about her father having become Darth Vader?" Sola asked, her eyes piercing, and intuitive.

Bail swallowed hard, turning his eyes from Jobal to Sola – because it was clear that Sola, and her father, would be the ones to ask the hard questions; Jobal, in turn, reminded him of Breha in many ways: she was not naïve, but she simply had no interest in negativity, if she could help it.

"I…do not feel comfortable speaking for Leia on that subject," Bail said diplomatically.

" _Ah_. Never mind. _That_ answers my question," Sola said dryly.

Padmé's sister brushed her hair back, folding her arms lightly.

"If you have persuaded her to see us because you think we can help her cope, you're mistaken," Sola said – not without care for Leia, but with brutal honesty. "We can talk about our lives under the Empire, and we can talk about how we loved Anakin, and we can talk about Padmé," she listed. "None of that will ever change the fact that Darth Vader tortured his own daughter within an inch of her life."

Jobal's face changed suddenly, as if she had not yet considered – remembered – what Leia had been through at the hands of Vader. It had only recently become entirely public that Leia had been aggressively interrogated – no details, just a signed statement from her noting that she could personally attest to Imperial war crimes.

Bail took a deep breath.

"I'm not asking you to be a therapist for Leia," he said quietly. "I _can_ tell you that Leia…is here for Padmé."

He did not think Leia was searching for a way to forgive, or redeem, Vader. He did not even think she wanted to _understand_ him – whatever had occurred between Leia, Luke, and the Force in the Jedi temple a year ago had given her some sort of grasp on how she handled the truth, but Bail did not think it had set her entirely at peace.

In truth, he didn't know Leia's mind regarding all of this. He knew Luke had ultimately prevailed upon her to reach out; he knew this was earlier than she planned, but he also knew with some things, Leia relied on _planning_ as an efficient synonym for _procrastination_ – Leia had wanted to carefully plan Bail's introduction to Han, and in waiting, had lost control of the narrative completely.

He knew Leia had resolved that she wanted an extremely central role in the New Republic, and he knew – from something Han had said – that she had no intention of putting her name up for such a role without laying bare the truth of her bloodline.

 _She thinks she's got to tell the whole damn world_ – Han had muttered, shrugging carelessly. _It ain't none of anyone's business_ –

 _Perhaps she's right,_ Bail had responded – _It's Leia and Luke who have to decide, of course, but – transparency is the key to an honest leader –_

 _Yeah, yeah, she said that too – I hate politicians._

Bail smiled to himself tiredly – perhaps Leia was here, at the root of it all, to continue answering questions about herself. Luke was open in his search for his ties to history, to his heritage, to the Jedi, and to his past – Leia was new to the concept because she had grown up surrounded by such safety and love that it precluded her ever wishing, or wondering, about where she came from.

"Well," Jobal said bravely. "Padmé we can talk about until the sun sets on eternity," she said, warm, and welcoming.

"Padmé," repeated Sola. She tilted her head. "You know, we must have said her name a hundred times today," she exaggerated fondly, "out loud, with confidence – and to think, for so long, when we spoke of her, it was in hushed whispers, for fear we would be heard, and called traitors."

Jobal clasped her hands.

"We still have so much to do," she said, clearing her throat. "I'll send day servants up to make this room spotless and presentable for Princess Leia, we'll clear the West Blue room for Ryoo, and put the kids in the loft," she said.

She looked at Bail, her expression hopeful, and firm.

"I think the only way to proceed is to just – _proceed_ ," she said sagely.

Bail smiled at her.

"There is one thing I should tell you," he said, a little wryly – "You might as well get used to simply calling her ' _Leia_.'"

"Oh," Jobal said, her brows going up lightly. "Yes – I should, shouldn't I?" she mused.

Sola leaned on her mother's shoulder with a grin.

"That may take a bit of getting used to, Bail," she said wryly. "We've been sitting here talking about the darkest of family history, and yet it's still only just occurred to me that we're not hosting her as the Princess-Ambassador," she cocked a brow, "she's my _niece_."

Bail inclined his head, smirking – and Jobal had put it as perfectly as she could put it, he thought; the ice had been broken, the foundations had been laid, the framework of a bridge was build – so all that was left to do now was to allow the Naberries their time with Luke and Leia – all that was left was to move forward and, if they could help it, avoid getting too tangled up in the tragedies of the past.

* * *

 _feedback appreciated!_

 _-no worries, Han & Leia are back next chapter_

 _-Alexandra_


	4. Three

_a/n: finally! a meshing of the families!_

* * *

 ** _Three_**

* * *

Han was sitting on an overturned crate, his boots in a heap next to him, slowly pulling on socks when he noticed Leia shift onto her back and blink awake, staring up at the bunk ceiling. He watched her turn to the side, her back to him, run her hand over the sheets and his pillow, and then sit up a little more. She glanced over her shoulder, saw him, and laid back down, rolling onto her side to face him.

He drew one leg up and placed his foot on his knee, picking up one of his boots to finish getting dressed.

Leia rubbed one of her eyes and yawned quietly. She mumbled a _good morning_ at him, and then looked around.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"It's still early," he answered. He ran a hand over his jaw, patting his knuckles against his cheek. "I'm about to go settle things with hangar management," he advised. "After I shave."

Leia nodded, turning onto her back again and resting her hand on her ribs. They had arrived on Naboo earlier than expected – the middle of the night, rather than at the start of the day – so they had landed the _Falcon_ in one of the local long-term hangar's private docking bays using an access code from the Naberries, and gone back to sleep. Now that the hangar was open and functioning on more than just a skeleton crew, Han wanted to go authorize the credit transactions for any incurred fees, and determine if the security standards were on par with what he wanted – for both the purposes of their privacy, and protection of his beloved ship.

He yanked on his other boot and stood up, striding across the room to the bunk. He sat down on the edge next to her and reached for her sides, curling his fingertips into her ribs mischievously. She squealed and twisted away, kicking her feet at him.

" _Han_!" she gasped, swatting at him. " _Haa-an!_ – You – _stop_ it!" she whined, losing her breath, and dissolving into laughter.

He grinned and leaned down closer, running his hands up her sides, and Leia turned her head fiercely and snapped her teeth at him. He snorted and went from tickling her to holding onto her sides gently, and he pressed his lips to hers. He slid his arms under her and considered crawling back into bed – he could kick his boots off easily enough.

Leia pushed her hands through his hair and then rested her palms against his neck, breaking away after a moment to take a deep breath. She brushed her fingers against the early morning stubble on his jaw and tilted her head, relaxing back heavily on the pillows. She pulled one leg up, tapping her knee against his bicep.

"What is this?" she murmured, arching a brow with mock indignity. She leaned forward to give him another quick kiss. "You're bedeviling me and I haven't even had kaffe yet."

" _Bedeviling_ you?" he quoted. "I'm just givin' my wife some," he drew his hands down to her ribs again, poised for attack, "affection."

He started with the light tickling again, and Leia tried to clench her teeth to hold back the laughter he was obviously looking for.

"S-scoundrel, ingrate – h-h- _eathen_!" she accused, her voice catching and hitting high pitches as she tried to talk through her giggling.

She twisted onto her side and buried her face in the pillow, shrieking at him, and he relented again, leaning down to press kisses against her side, up over her arm, and to her neck, which brought little chill bumps up on her skin, and she shifted her head into him to nudge him away as she sat up slowly.

"You're in a mood, Mr. Solo," she accused lightly, tossing her hair over one shoulder.

She pushed the sheets off her a little to disentangle herself, and crossed her legs, pulling her ankles in towards her. The old t-shirt she'd gone to bed in – something worn and frayed, his, even though it had really been _hers_ since the trip to Bespin – hung on her attractively.

"Just wanted to hear you laugh," he drawled – and she burst out laughing again, at both the overdramatic simper he mustered up for his expression, and the words themselves.

"You know," she said primly, her tone secretive; "there are numerous beings in this galaxy who think you are an intimidating military general with a dangerous, rogue criminal streak."

"I am," Han said seriously.

Leia snorted.

"You're a hopeless romantic, Han Solo," she accused.

"Am not," he retorted. "I just like it when you laugh."

Leia deliberately tried to stifle a grin, and Han gave her a warning look, lifting his hand menacingly, fingers curled. She swatted him away, lunging forward and pushing his hands down into his lap, trapping them there.

"Don't you dare," she breathed.

He lifted his chin and kissed her brow, resting his temple against hers for a moment. She released his hands and sat back, and he lifted a brow at her.

"What kind of mood are you in, Mrs. Solo?" he asked, turning her earlier comment back on her.

Leia's stomach flipped – she usually felt a little dizzy when he called her that, even now – she had to bite back a smile, and quell a proud, victorious breed of butterflies in her stomach, but this time, the lurch was more than just the name – and she sighed, bowing her head.

"Hmm?" Han prompted, a little gruff. "What're you thinkin'? You okay?"

"How many times are you going to ask me that?" she answered, exasperated, as she lifted her head. She moved her head slightly, a hint of annoyance lining her lips as she pressed them together. It wasn't that she was annoyed with Han for caring – she was annoyed with herself for not yet being at the point where he didn't have to constantly _check_.

Leia ran her hands over her face, opening her eyes wide. She blinked a few times, waking up fully.

"I'm okay, Han," she said honestly. "They're just people. They aren't even…they're Padmé's people. Not _his_ people."

At the word _his_ , Leia gestured to her pillow, underneath which she'd tucked Shmi Skywalker's diary when she was done with it last night. Han arched a brow skeptically – sure, she said that, but they were associated with him, intimately. Though, technically Leia was too, so he supposed she was trying to find some healthy balance between wanting nothing to do with any of the Vader stuff, and not blaming people for sins that weren't theirs in the first place.

Han leaned back, considering her. He knew her – and she really did seem okay. She had known this was likely coming for weeks, and she'd decided for herself that she did want to meet the Naberries, if things worked well, so arranging everything had been a progression of something already in motion, rather than a huge shock. It was, as they'd already discussed, the best course of action they could find – the truth delivered from someone who had been there, and then private, quiet down time to meet each other, and reflect.

It was _leagues_ different than how Leia had found out about Vader; Luke was better at his delivery, and the galaxy was stable enough to allow for both leave and deep breaths to be taken.

"What part's gonna be hardest for you?" Han asked critically.

Leia drew her knees up and draped her arms around them loosely, holding onto her wrist. She tapped the back of her hand lightly, tilting her head back and forth.

"Deciding to take this step was the hardest part," she said honestly. She hesitated, and then bit her lip, looking down to the side a little, introspective. "That's always how it is, for me. I agonize over the choice. I am _always_ firm in the decision."

Han opened his mouth, and then shut it abruptly, and Leia gave him a sharp look.

"I know exactly where you were going with that," she said, a razor sharp edge cutting into her tone.

"I didn't say anything," Han said flatly.

"It's _different_ , Han."

He just shrugged.

"I didn't say anything," he repeated.

He'd caught himself, because he didn't want to start an argument; he didn't want to kick off their Lake Country meet and greet by pissing off his wife, but every time he bit his tongue lately, he got a little more irritated that she didn't want to talk about this.

She had reacted _so badly_ to that one minor scare.

He wasn't even asking her for anything right now – he sure as hell wasn't asking her to have a baby at this exact moment – what he wanted was a conversation that they obviously had to have at some point, but when they scratched the surface, she was spooked so badly she bolted across the apartment, if not out the door and to her office.

Han frowned to himself – he worried about her so much, so often. He'd seen that old look in her eyes, the one he knew so well; he could tell when Leia was struggling with something, and he knew how she could let it weigh her down, _shut_ her down – he'd seen it with Alderaan, with Vader – he'd even been on the damn receiving end of it.

She was right – she agonized over decisions, and her feelings, and the right way of doing things, but she never wavered in conviction once she made a choice.

He was just…baffled. He'd always been the person Leia confided in, found shelter in, and sought comfort from, and yet she didn't want to talk to him about this at all. She attacked when he brought it up, and it was so impossible not to be faced with reminders of what they weren't talking about when the Media –

"Han, please stop looking at me like that," Leia said wearily, breaking into his thoughts.

He focused on her a little more clearly, thinking of the last time they'd had a fight about it –

 _Leia, you're shutting me out – this isn't fair –_

 _Nothing happened! You're acting like we lost something and I wasn't even – stop, Han, please stop bringing this up –_

He cleared his throat.

"Like what?" he asked, forcing gruffness into his tone. He gave her a casual shrug, shaking his head.

Leia took in her breath slowly.

"Like you're," she started, and to his surprise, her voice cracked. "Like you're not happy with me."

Han blinked a few times, taken aback. He grinned, and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug.

"Just tryin' to figure you out," he said, resting his cheek on her head. "'M happy."

Leia nodded, and pulled back to look at him. She searched his eyes intently for a moment, and nodded, and Han touched her jaw with his thumb.

"This _is_ stressin' you out," he said frankly, arching his brows.

Leia's lips trembled. She nodded.

"What if they don't like me?" she asked suddenly, in a hoarse whisper. "What if they look at me, and at Luke, and all they can see is – is – _Vader_."

Han ran his thumb under both of her eyes, shook his head, and leaned forward to kiss her brow, conveying his skepticism with a derisive noise.

"They'll like you," he said smugly. He gave her a wry look. "Y'know, be yourself."

"I was myself on Hoth and everyone thought I was a bitch."

Han rolled his eyes.

"Don't be _public_ Leia," he retorted. He gave her a look. "You weren't yourself on Hoth," he added, arching a brow.

"I know," she agreed grudgingly, looking at him through her lashes.

"Be my Leia," Han suggested.

"I do not want to shock and scandalize my father," Leia quipped.

Han snorted.

"You're killin' me, Your Worship – fine, be…Chewie's Leia?"

Leia laughed.

"When did I get so many personalities?" she asked. She gave him a stern look – "And which one did you marry?"

Han's comlink lit up loudly across the room, and he glanced at it. He got up, pressed another kiss to Leia's lips – "All of them," he mumbled reassuringly, and released her to check the little device – it wasn't a call, just a coded message; he scanned the symbols.

"Luke's here," he muttered. He looked over at her. "You gonna get dressed? Wanna see 'im, or want me to chase him off?"

"No, I want to see him!" Leia said, perking up. She kicked the covers off of her and swung her legs off the bunk, bare feet touching the ground tentatively to test how cold it was. Finding it tolerable, she stood up, and stretched.

Han set aside his comlink to watch, his eyes drifting from her ankles, to her hips, to the skin that was exposed when she stretched her arms and her t-shirt rose up, to her face – where she flicked her eyelashes at him, and gave him a wry look.

"Aren't you ever tired of looking at me?" she asked, arching a brow.

She crossed the room to open a drawer and find something casual to throw on for breakfast – something appropriate to see Luke in. Han laughed sarcastically as an answer, wordlessly conveying what a ridiculous notion that was.

"Luke's going to go up with us," Leia murmured, selecting a pair of sweatpants with patches on the knees. "I asked him if he would," she said slowly, shaking out the pants. She shrugged. "I don't know, I think it…makes me feel a little more fortified. He's met them, so he can – guide me?" she frowned to herself. "I've been trying to find a way to make myself act less like a politician."

Han nodded.

"The drawstring in those is broken," he said, pointing at the hem of the pants.

Leia shrugged.

"I'll roll the waistband," she said, stepping back and slipping them on. She turned the waist down several times, and adjusted her t-shirt, then reached up to half-heartedly comb her fingers through her hair – presentable for her brother, after all, was a lot more relaxed than _presentable_ for other people.

"There's kaffe already brewed," Han said. "I'll go take care of the docking fee, security," he said again, ticking off tasks on his fingers. "That won't take long – we're _still_ gonna be early," he added, crossing his arms. "What do you want to do? Wanna check out the village?"

At the foot of the Lake Country, just before all of the private property began, was a small, bustling village full of bazaars and booths, all offering native comforts. Leia thought about it a moment – she was curious to see that sort of thing; she always liked seeing what other cultures had to offer – however –

"I think it might take me until the last minute to decide what to wear," she said flatly.

Han laughed. He ran his hand through her hair, dropped a kiss to her temple, and swept his comlink off the dresser, shoving it into his pocket. She turned to watch him unhook his belt and holster from the wall and hang it on deftly as he hit his knee against the unlock button for the bunkroom door.

"Yeah, alright, we'll just hang aground the _Falcon_ ," he agreed, running his hand along the doorway. "Old girl's gonna get lonely while we're up in the hills," he sighed, feigning a forlorn look.

Leia rolled her eyes.

"Given the choice, which is it, Han? Me or the ship?" she teased.

He pretended to think it over.

"Ahhh, you look better naked," he said.

He winked at her, and turned, boots echoing down the hall.

"I'll send Luke into the main hold," he yelled, his voice getting fainter.

Leia shook her head and turned, slipping into the 'fresher to run a toothbrush over her teeth and twist her hair into a quick braid – she'd focus on actually getting ready closer to the time they would transfer all of their luggage into one of the lake gondolas and make the journey up to the Naberrie family retreat.

She paused a moment to peer at her reflection, pressing her fingers thoughtfully against her nose, and then her jaw. She tilted her head at her eyes, and moved to the side a little to look at her ears – facial features, all genetic markers that she may have inherited from her mother's blood, or her father's. She knew she could consider Bail and Breha Organa her parents with every ounce of her heart – and she _did_ , they _were_ her parents, unequivocally – but these physical hand-me-downs, even down to the pale-as-snow hue of her skin, were the only parts of her that belonged purely to the Skywalkers, purely to the Naberries.

She sometimes wondered if that were the only way she would see herself in these people. This genetic evidence of her heritage was impossible to hide. Her own skin, pale where her parents' had been olive and tan, was a constant reminder that in her tiniest cells, she wasn't theirs, and that wouldn't be so daunting, perhaps, if not for the fact that half of her cells were Vader's cells, too.

Leia cleared her throat and abandoned her study of herself, leaving the bunkroom swiftly and finding her way into the main hold. Luke was already there, poking around the Dejarik table. He turned when he heard her in the hallway, and grinned.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, pointedly nodding at her attire.

"No," she said brightly. "I'm stalling. Kaffe?" she gestured at the decanter and cups Han had left on the table.

Luke shrugged.

"Is there cream?"

"There might be some honey. Han and I drink it black."

Luke made a face. He peered into the inky decanter, and shook his head, deciding against it.

"How can you stand to drink it like that?" he asked distastefully, watching Leia pour herself a mug. "It's just ruined, rotten water without cream," Luke whined. "It's not even a pleasant colour."

Leia laughed, swinging around the Dejarik table to sit down.

"You can just say 'No, Leia, I'll pass on the Kaffe.'"

"No," Luke said seriously. "I need to verbally abuse you about your tastes first."

"Sit down," Leia ordered, rolling her eyes. She pulled one leg up on the seat with her, her other brushing the floor lazily. She rested one arm over her knee, and held her kaffe mug against it, the warmth from the drink burning pleasantly through her sweatpants.

Luke obliged, sitting back comfortably.

"Where's your cape?" Leia asked smugly.

He gave her an annoyed look.

"It's a robe. I wear robes," he retorted. He gestured to his head. "With hoods, and sleeves – capes are for – _villains_."

Leia arched a brow, and Luke flushed, scowling.

"My _robe_ is in my room at Varykino," he said. He shrugged – he was wearing a sleeveless tunic, too, Leia suddenly noticed. Sand-coloured, instead of black, and of lighter material than he wore on Coruscant. "It's hot up there," he said.

"Hmmm," Leia murmured, taking a sip of kaf. "Is it pretty?" she asked.

"Stunning," Luke said, without hesitation. "It's so silent, too. I mean, I grew up in a desert, so I was bound to think places like Coruscant are…horribly loud and crowded, but even Tatooine seems loud compared to this," he explained. "The birds even seem to chirp quieter."

"Perfect," Lei said dully, deadpan. "I'll be able to hear myself think."

Luke laughed a little. He shrugged – that was true. Varykino was a good place for reflection, and thinking, and sort of…puzzling things out.

"Well, most of the Naberries talk a lot," Luke said frankly. "I don't know if it's normal for them, or if they're just inquisitive. Pooja talks the most. She's like their mouthpiece," he said. He grinned a little. "She's their Bail."

Leia smiled, tilting her head. She took another sip, pleased with the idea. She liked Pooja; it seemed fitting that she would be the one handling things, sort of channeling them, for her family. She was Luke and Leia's generation, after all.

She cleared her throat softly.

"How is it?" she asked. "Still the same?"

Luke shrugged pleasantly and nodded, tilting his head back and forth. He put his legs up on the table and crossed them at the ankle, leaning back with his hands behind his head. He'd talked to Leia periodically since his first contact with their Naberrie side, just to give her an idea of how it was.

"They're nice people," he said sincerely. "You know, like I said, they took the first conversation in with a lot of…silence, and detached questions, and I think it's been sinking in. Bail told me Sola and Jobal really pressed him yesterday."

Leia leaned to the side a little, wedging her shoulder against the back of the booth.

"It can't all be smooth flying," she murmured skeptically, looking at him intently.

Luke nodded.

"Well, Ruwee is a very withdrawn man," he said slowly. "Sola's sharp, and very dry," he paused, and grinned: "I think you're really going to like her. You know your Father spoke with them, and made Padmé's funeral arrangements, back then, right?"

Leia nodded slowly, and Luke grinned.

"Well, I overheard Sola chastising him for not keeping in touch. She said Bail really ought to have sent them a note or something, if he was a good enough friend to watch Padmé give birth."

Leia's nose wrinkled. She laughed a little, clutching her mug.

"Ew," she murmured good-naturedly. She took another drink of kaffe, running over the names of these people in her head – Sola did sound like someone she'd get alone with.

She tossed her head, knocking her braid over her shoulder.

"And Vader?" she asked. "Are they still handling that well?"

"I don't know," Luke sighed. "I talked to Pooja about it a little. She said she couldn't conceptualize it. I think Anakin is just always going to be…Uncle Ani, to her."

Luke winced a little, in anticipation of Leia's reaction – and her reaction was, predictably, a grimace and a tight scowl, accompanied with a shiver. Luke nodded, a little fervent. He let out a breath he felt like he'd been holding –

"Actually I," he started. He moved one hand from behind his head and rubbed his nose almost sheepishly. "I've been feeling…relating to you, for the past few days?" he admitted, rubbing his ankles together.

Leia peered at him primly over the mug.

"How so?" she asked politely.

He smiled at her, tilting his head up.

"Ah, um," he drawled, like he was confessing to something he should have realized ages ago. "Well – Pooja tells all of these stories about Anakin, and Jobal mentions him off-hand, too, in positive ways, and it throws _me_ ," he admitted. "I know I saw Vader repent, and I try all the time to help you with seeing the good that was in him but," Luke shook his head, "I hear them talk about the man he was…and make him sound so flawless and full of light," he held up his mechanical hand, "my synthetic aches a little," he finished, apologetic.

Leia took a pointed sip of her kaffe, not breaking eye contact with him.

"Well, well, well," she drawled. "How the Sabacc hand has shifted."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, and then lowered her cup, smiling a little, so he'd know she wasn't angry.

"Take your moment," Luke said, exaggerating his contrition. He held his hands out, palms up flat. "Glory in your triumph."

"Luke," she snorted. She shook her head. Instead of commenting further on his sudden ability to relate to her, she leaned forward, placing her mug on the table. "It's unfathomable, isn't it?" she asked, choosing instead to connect with him over it. "That's what sent me over the edge a year ago," she reminded him. "Pooja. Standing in my office. Telling me she knew Anakin Skywalker must have died, because if he hadn't, he'd have carried her on her shoulders at Padmé's funeral."

Leia shook her head, eyes wide and wary.

"It's _un_ fathomable," she repeated softly.

Luke frowned innocuously, nodding.

"The Naberries really seemed to have liked him," he added. "I thought that there would be, maybe some animosity, you know? We know the Jedi Order didn't allow attachments, so I know they were facing that obstacle. But I thought there might have been family issues."

"That they _didn't_ like him," Leia murmured, "or that they fought a lot, he and Padmé."

"Exactly," Luke agreed. He shrugged quickly. "None of that. They _loved_ him."

The twins looked at each other, and Leia sighed, running her finger around the rim of her mug. She wasn't sure what to make of it – well, then she was walking into a nest of people who perhaps had the opposite problem as her; the majority of them, save Jobal and Ruwee, who claimed to have known what happened, had to deal with the fallout of discovering one of their loved ones became Darth Vader – Leia had always struggled with the concept of one of her darkest enemies once being a respected, honorable man, by many accounts.

"This is strange," Leia whispered, her voice quivering just barely. "It was just us, Luke," she said, "and I think we barely had a grasp on that. Then my Father, and now," she paused, sighing. "There are so many of them. It's surreal."

"Yeah," Luke agreed, pulling at the collar of his tunic. He put his hands back behind his head. "I thought I might never find out much about who our mother even was, and then it turns out her family is…alive. Living normal lives."

He reflected for a moment, and then jolted, giving Leia an apologetic look.

"Birth mother," he corrected hastily. "I'm sorry I keep doing that."

Leia shook her head. She slid her hand around her mug again.

"It's okay," she soothed honestly. "I know you aren't intending to slight my mother," she said – a much different reaction than she would have had so many months ago, when any suggestion that she wasn't purely an Organa had rattled her to the core – even if she'd always known she was adopted, for such a long time, the Organa name, the Organa family, had been the only thing she could cling to that protected her from the looming darkness of Vader.

She was starting to ease herself into the idea that maybe Padmé's side of the tragedy could be a shield for her, too.

Luke looked relieved. Leia took a moment to drain most of the kaffe in her mug, closing her eyes to enjoy the warm bitterness of it. She leaned her head against the booth and relaxed her shoulders, thinking about the upcoming day – upcoming weeks.

"Can I ask…how Shmi's diary is coming along?" Luke ventured.

Leia took a moment before she opened her eyes. She looked at him for a moment, and then nodded – though he wasn't sure if she was telling him he could ask, or indicating it was going okay.

Leia had left the diary with Luke before leaving on her honeymoon. He kept it with him until abruptly, as they began to plan the contact with the Naberries, _Han_ asked for it back. He'd cornered Luke and gruffly asked him to hand it over without bringing it up to Leia – she wanted to try reading it, but she didn't want Luke to crowd her about it.

"It's not giving me nightmares," she said flatly. She chewed on her lower lip. "Han reads it with me," she added.

He usually fell asleep on her shoulder fairly quickly, but she didn't fault him for that. It was his presence she needed.

"You getting anything out of it?" Luke asked.

Leia waved her hand – not dismissively, maybe more uncertainly. She chewed on her fingernail for a moment, and then shook her head kind of vaguely.

"It makes me sad," she said stiffly – and to herself, she thought: _it scares me._

Shmi Skywalker's one and only concern, so far, seemed to be her son's well-being, and happiness. Leia knew, because of what her father had told them, that Shmi died before Anakin Skywalker finished his training – she never would have known what he became.

"What did you get out of it?" Leia asked him, a little tersely. "It _humanized_ him for you?"

She sounded scornful now, and Luke shrugged, looking down at his lap for a moment.

"It gave me some ideas about what not to do with a new Jedi Order," he said dryly, and then breathed out slowly, thoughtfully. "Well, it's not really about Anakin, I guess. It's knowing that we aren't from a _line_ of bloodthirsty tyrants. Shmi's nice."

Leia shifted uncomfortably.

 _Yes, that's what I'm scared of._

"What?" Luke asked, alarmed, wary. "What scares you?"

Leia jumped. She glared at him.

"That was – _mine_ ," she said.

"You projected it!"

She closed her eyes, refocused her mental walls, and then opened them, giving him a pointed look. He knocked on the door of her thoughts, and was rebuffed, and he grinned, inclining his head respectfully.

"My bad," he said mildly. "Leia?" he prompted.

 _Fear is a path to the dark side_ – Yoda's voice whispered in his ear, but so did Leia's, from last year – _I want to be able to feel emotions a little recklessly._

She shook her head.

"Drop it, Luke," she warned – though she was gentle, and she thought, privately, securely behind her mental walls – _I won't even talk to Han about it. I can't. I choke on the topic._

She sighed to herself, and reached for her mug, draining the rest of it.

"Anything I should know before I get up there?" she asked, smoothly redirecting the conversation.

Luke blinked a few times, and then swung his legs off the table, leaning forward seriously.

"Yes," he said emphatically. "Ryoo's kids know who we are because we're famous, but they haven't specifically been told they're related to us," he said. "No one is keeping it from them, it's just they're apparently ecstatic enough that Princess Leia's going to be in the same room with them, so no one wants to draw a diagram and tell them what a second cousin is for the very real fear that their heads will explode."

Leia looked startled, and then amused – and then she laughed.

"Oh, I'm sure they're much more excited about Luke Skywalker," she snorted, still often amused by the absurdity of the idealistic sort of lionization many of the Rebellion's heroes, previously known as the Empire's Most Wanted, received from some.

"It's intimidating," Luke said sheepishly. "I went face to face with Emperor Palpatine but these are kids, little ones. What if I don't live up?" he asked, half-serious.

Leia laughed again.

"I'm sure you will," she murmured, saying nothing for herself.

Luke lifted his shoulders loosely.

"They were on their way up when I headed down here," he said, "Ryoo and her family. Sola said she wanted to get them settled and calmed down before we arrived, so I'll meet the smallest ones at the same time as you. And Ryoo's husband – he was at home with them when Bail and I first talked to everyone."

Leia nodded. She held up three fingers.

"Indy, Iver, and Maiah," she listed. "Yes?" she clarified, making sure.

Her brother nodded. Leia twirled her empty kaffe cup around. She fell into a comfortable silence with Luke, yawning lazily, and shaking off the last reside of sleep – and it wasn't long before Han came stomping back up the ramp and strolling through the hold.

"Everyone here's real _nice_ ," he said suspiciously, and looked between them matter-of-factly. "Anyone want breakfast?"

Luke looked delighted at the offer – Han could make a mean breakfast – and put his hand up into the air smugly, like an excited kid. Leia rolled her eyes, and Han stepped up to pour himself a cup of kaffe, and refill hers – there was still a whole day ahead of them.

* * *

Pooja found her father in his study, listlessly tidying his desk. He hadn't used it for work in many years; Ruwee Naberrie had retired from public service shortly after his youngest daughter's death and the Imperial sack of Theed. Once the President of Naboo's Refugee Relief Movement and an accomplished architect responsible for building up strong villages, Ruwee now spent his days very selectively lending his hand to projects – though he had been approached in recent months, by the new young Queen, about coming back into service with refugee work.

It was not yet something Ruwee could bring himself to do, and Jobal had quietly told Pooja it had everything to do with losing Padmé.

"Gran-Papa," Pooja said softly, hoping not to startle him. "Gran-Mama wants to know if you've found any old holos of Padmé," she ventured.

Her father looked up, standing at his desk. He cleared his throat, and seemed to be about to quickly answer - -and then he shook his head, frowning.

"I best be honest with you, I suppose," he muttered. He tilted his head. "I haven't looked," he admitted grudgingly.

Pooja crossed her arms, and shrugged, non-combative.

"It's alright," she assured him. "Gran-Mama assumed that was the case."

"I will likely need Whyler to rummage through our old hard drives in any case," Ruwee said shortly. "I think that most of the physical copies were taken when Vader ransacked the house."

"She thinks there's more of a chance that things were missed up here," Pooja noted.

"Well, there's that trunk your grandmother saved, up in the insulated attic," Ruwee said gruffly. "Though I do not think it has any holo chips in it. It's clothing, mostly. Shoes, perhaps. All out of fashion," he added, snorting a bit. "I can't imagine what Leia Organa would want with a trunk full of outdated dresses."

Pooja tilted her head, thinking of what Luke had told her about hearing her memories – connection.

"Connection," she said aloud. "Tangible proof that she existed."

" _Hmpf_ ," Ruwee mumbled.

"Right now all they have is what they know about Darth Vader," Pooja mentioned slowly. "The Empire obliterated all the records of her. She's just a phantom. We're really all they have, when it comes to…personal history."

Ruwee sighed. He walked to the window of his office and stared out along a broad expanse of the landscape, his eyes on the lightly rippling lake. He thought of all the days he'd spent here when it was newly theirs, one of the first truly luxurious purchases he'd been able to make – Sola and Padmé running through the halls ecstatically while Jobal tried to chase them, afraid they would fall on stairs or leap off a balcony railing.

"Is that what you think they want?" he asked quietly. "For us to paint them a picture?"

Pooja entered the room, running her hands up and down her arms. She came to stand with her grandfather at the window, peering out at his side.

"I don't think what they're doing seems unnatural," she said slowly. "I haven't had any personal discussion with Princess Leia about this – save for when she asked me about Ani – but I know it's important to _Luke_ that he learn about his mother."

Pooja looked over at him, studying his profile.

"I don't think what they're doing is unnatural," she repeated.

"No, not unnatural," Ruwee agreed, his expression fixed. "What I wonder is – why now?"

Pooja cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, Bail's just told them – "

"They have known for more than a year," Ruwee said flatly.

Pooja sighed.

"Yes, I understand that. I also can see why leaping in a ship and flying straight to Theed to see us was nearly impossible to do immediately after Bail Organa was pulled from the wreckage of Alderaan," she argued, a little shortly.

Ruwee nodded, shifting his weight back and forth.

"No consideration was given to contacting Jobal and I _during_ the Empire's reign," he said tersely. "Not an effort made."

Pooja bit the inside of her lip.

"Gran-Papa, it was _dangerous_. You _must_ know that – particularly if you really did know Ani turned into…V-Vader."

Ruwee nodded again, shrugging.

"Yet you have Luke given to Anakin's stepbrother," he said bitterly.

Pooja was silent. She had no answer for her grandfather; she hadn't been there then, and she barely knew the people who had been involved in it. She thought she might have met Ben Kenobi once, but she could be confusing him with a different male Jedi with a blue lightsaber – and Bail she did not remember at all.

"Bail Organa stood in our sitting room twenty-five years ago and told us Padmé had been killed with some of the Jedi in a final stand against the Sith," he murmured, his eyes almost glazing over as he remembered. "Killed, without coming to term. He looked us in the eyes and told us that, all the while preparing to take her daughter home with him."

Pooja worried her bottom lip with her teeth, unfolding her arms and clasping her hands together. She twisted her fingers tensely, and let out a short sigh.

"I can't speak for the Viceroy," she said finally. "I think he meant well – "

"I think he saw an opportunity," Ruwee said flatly.

"Again," Pooja said quietly – calmly drawing on her senatorial skills. "I can't speak for him. It isn't Luke and Leia's fault, though. They didn't know. Luke says it was _them_ who chose to initiate this. They want to know us. To know you, Gran-Papa."

He sighed very quietly.

"Oh, I have nothing against the children," he said softly.

He kept going back to what ifs – what if Organa had never been rescued, had never reappeared after all of these years; would they ever have come to know Luke and Leia, Padmé's children? To hear Luke tell it, they hadn't the slightest inkling of who their mother could be until the viceroy had enlightened them, so without that connection – ignorance was bliss, to be sure.

Ruwee struggled, though. He struggled with the idea of coming face of face with Padmé's children, because it reignited the awful, indescribable pain of losing his daughter, and it left him with this dull, throbbing anger over what he now perceived as a double loss – his grandchildren stolen and scattered, one of them, at least, to something close to family, but the other – ! Crowned as the sole heiress of a prominent dynasty, placed in such a high profile position, given the same burdens and responsibilities that Padmé had taken on when she herself was so young and so innocent, burdens and responsibilities that had ultimately created the powder keg of personal and professional conflict that killed her –

He felt deprived, and he felt a staggering sense of guilt – he hadn't known about the twins, but if he had, he wouldn't have failed them like he failed Padmé – Luke had been taken and raised like Anakin, Obi-Wan Kenobi's chance to redeem his mistakes, and Leia had been sent almost directly in Padmé's footsteps –

"I could almost believe it, that they thought only of their safety," Ruwee said quietly, "if not for the fact that Bail Organa raised that girl center stage of the Empire."

He turned his head, focusing on the top of a mountain, fuzzy and unfocused, far off in the distance.

"Jobal and I…we would have let them be children," he said heavily.

 _Like I should have let Padmé be a child._

He had never _pushed_ Padmé; no, never. But he had let himself become star-struck, so _proud_ \- if he could go back now, though – he'd shred those first aptitude scores that identified her as brilliant; he'd slam the door in Senator Palpatine's face when the old man came sniffing around, encouraging ten-year-old Padmé to run for Princess of Theed, he'd have loved her without taking pride in how far his family had risen through hard work and sheer intelligence –

He'd have insisted she have her childhood, her entire childhood, and nothing else, until she was a legal adult - -and then he'd have handed her the reins.

If he could go back now, he'd be more of a father and less of a mentor; he'd stand as a guard against the powerful who would raise her high, just as his own parents had refused the Jedi Order when they came asking for him.

As an adult, Padmé had every right to make her own decisions and walk her own path, to be reckless, to face danger, to shout about injustice at the top of her lungs, to bear responsibility for her own actions, but as a child – some of the weight had to fall on him, and on her mother, and all these years Ruwee had never stopped thinking he had failed her.

 _If I had never let Sheev get his claws in her –_

Screams echoed through the mansion, followed by laughter, and slamming footsteps, and Ruwee turned his head.

"Who has been screaming all morning?" he asked patiently.

"Maiah, mostly," Pooja answered, grinning. "Can't you tell?"

"No," Ruwee said, laughing a little. "After raising two daughters and two granddaughters, your screams all run together."

Pooja laughed.

"Well, she's playing Rebels with the boys," she said. "Maiah was pretending to be Princess Leia, but she has since switched to calling herself Shara Bey."

"Hmm," Ruwee muttered.

"Whyler told her if she didn't stop impersonating Leia, the _real_ Princess was going to think she was weird and not want to play with her."

Ruwee shot a dark look at Pooja.

"Whyler is an ass," he said in a clipped tone – Ruwee was perhaps the only one who had not particularly come around to Ryoo's tall, muscular, tattooed husband.

Pooja giggled.

"He's effective, though. He also took away the stick Indy painted to look like a lightsaber. Mostly because he was smacking Iver with it, but also because they don't want Luke to think we take the Jedi lightly."

"We certainly do not," Ruwee said, a bit grimly.

Pooja tilted her head at her grandfather.

"Are you going to talk to Luke about your brush with the Jedi Order?" she asked. "The two of you may find some common ground there."

"Brush," Ruwee mumbled, quoting her. He turned to face her, shaking his head. "It was hardly a brush. My parents refused to give me up," he said. "I was on the cusp of the level of sensitivity they require," he explained. "They didn't intend to take me on as a Jedi Knight. They wanted me to apprentice with the Healers, so they could study my cells. It was a somewhat commonplace."

"He'd be interested," Pooja said quietly. "I said nothing because it isn't my place to tell, but he'd like to know. I know he would."

She tilted her head.

"I've always wondered why none of us were capable of being Jedi," she mused.

Ruwee shrugged.

"Perhaps if the Healers had gotten me, we would know," he said wryly, sharing a look with her. "It's a mysterious thing, the Force," he said respectfully. "The Jedi Order was always searching for more knowledge on how precisely it worked. You and Ryoo were both tested at birth, of course – everyone in the Old Republic was," he explained matter-of-factly. "Neither of you had an above normal cell sensitivity."

"What about Padmé?" Pooja asked rapidly.

Ruwee shook his head.

"No, she was unremarkable on that front," he said. "Remarkable in almost everything else," he murmured. "Your mother, as well – but that didn't surprise me. My cell sensitivity was so…erratic. _In situ_ , they called it, then," he explained slowly. "They would often watch a family to find the precise individual who finally inherited a trainable sensitivity."

Pooja looked over her shoulder at the sound of an outraged, muffled shriek.

" _Maaaaaiaaaaah! STOP IT!"_

" _I'm telling Mom!"_

Then, Ryoo – _"I will send your father in there in five-four-three – "_

Silence from the children.

"What about them?" Pooja asked softly.

Ruwee turned, and followed her gaze towards the door of his study. He didn't know – they had been born after the fall of the Republic, when the Jedi had been exterminated, and families prayed to all of their Gods and to all of their heavens that their children had nothing extraordinary about them.

"You're right," she said. "It's a mysterious entity."

"It's a matter of degrees," Ruwee said thoughtfully. "The Force exists for all beings. There are merely some who find themselves with the power to touch it. And that power, my dear, can be a precious and dangerous thing."

"You haven't talked like this since I was young," she remarked softly.

Ruwee was silent for a moment. Despite the animosity he felt concerning some of the revelations he had heard lately, he did mean it when he did not intend to take it out on Luke and Leia – he did not intend to. He was reminded of the pain of the past, surely, but also of some of the wisdom he used to value.

"Perhaps it is the simple fact of having a Jedi in the house," he said quietly. "Luke Skywalker seems to be the sort of Jedi I remember. The sort they strove to be."

He turned to look at Pooja seriously.

"I still find myself questioning the motives behind this, Pooja," he admitted with a sigh.

She gave him a look of slight frustration.

"It can't be that hard to believe that they simply want to know us," she said.

He lifted his shoulders – he thought that was perfectly valid; he was just wary, and suspicious, and he wouldn't be able to put that behind him at the snap of a finger.

"It isn't hard to believe," he answered quietly. "As you said, it's natural, even. It also seems calculated – there was so much fanfare recently in recovering the past," he hesitated, referencing how often Padmé's name had been in the intergalactic news lately, one of the many who was resurrected and lauded in an effort to restructure history _truthfully_ , rather than how the Empire had taught it.

"You think they have an ulterior motive?" Pooja asked, exasperated.

Ruwee was careful with his words.

"I think there is a lot of personal risk in not only publicly confirming the sibling relationship between Luke and Leia, but returning a spotlight to the name _Padmé Naberrie - -_ and with Luke so publicly bearing Anakin's surname."

He lowered his chin.

"We aren't the only ones alive who still remember, Pooja," he said. "We can't be. Such a notion is absurd. There will be connections made."

"Who cares if it becomes common knowledge that their mother and father are Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Naberrie?" Pooja asked flippantly. "She was a well-respected politician, and he was a Jedi hero!"

Ruwee's one word response –

"Was."

\- was cool, and withdrawn, a little wary – and tragic.

Pooja compressed her lips.

"What I wonder is – if you were Princess Leia, if you were in a position of immeasurable power in a new democratic government – would you want anyone discovering the truth about Anakin Skywalker?"

Ruwee's mind turned sharply – he understood politics; he was a shrewd man, and he'd studied with Padmé – he'd been there with her, advised her, learned with her, worked with her, as a father, and as a citizen in his own right.

"It shouldn't matter," Pooja said firmly. "She's – "

"Do not be naïve," Ruwee said. "Be earnest, and kind, and just, but never be naïve," he corrected. "It will matter. To many."

Pooja swallowed hard – _yes_ , she knew it would. To the same people who looked at Princess Leia's choice in husband an saw only a stain on a royal house; and to anyone who could harness the knowledge and cleverly twist it to make Princess Leia seem like a villain, and wrench power away from her.

" _Why_ , then," Ruwee said quietly, "would she – and I speak of her, because it is clear to me that Luke has no political ambitions, or hasn't thought too much about how badly people will mistrust him if this gets out – why would she risk even the slightest chance of it getting out?"

Her grandfather stared at her pointedly, and Pooja compressed her lips, thinking – from what she knew, this secret was fairly airtight. She thought of her lone conversation with Princess Leia about it, last year – she had thought she was letting her down easy when she told her Padmé died pregnant, but she also remembered clearly stating that she always wondered if Anakin was Luke's father. Was the name _Skywalker_ common – perhaps; among the masses, who knew? But to anyone who vividly remembered the larger-than-life young Jedi, their minds would automatically go back to him when they heard Luke's name – and with it public knowledge that Leia was the biological twin of Luke –

Pooja couldn't very well see a way in which someone would easily find out, but then again, there was an entire department of the New Republic devoted to cataloguing, decoding, and making transparent all of the old Imperial records, and if something were to be found in Palpatine's things, if something buried deep in Vader's early communications –

 _If Padmé's things were ever found in that ruined excavation Vader called a home, on Mustafar –_

"I," Pooja started. "Well, when I puzzle it out it seems as if…the galaxy is being conditioned."

"Do you think for a second that a woman as smart as Leia Organa is reputed to be would risk this secret being snatched out of her hands?" Ruwee demanded.

Pooja swallowed hard.

"You think she's going to go public," she said suddenly, her voice hushed.

Ruwee's expression was a little proud; to see she'd figured it out, and a little dull.

"Seeing us first is a professional courtesy," he said quietly. "That is why they are here."

Pooja turned away, pacing the office. She felt disheartened by his pessimism – she felt like she'd spent years with Luke these past few days, and not once had he mentioned anything like that; he was kind, and friendly, and peaceful. Pooja knew Princess Leia to be starkly different from her brother, judging by what she knew of her in a professional sense, but even when others had called the Princess cold and stone-hearted, Pooja had never quite believed it.

Ruwee's assumption added a level of the impersonal to the whole affair, and now that she considered it, Pooja would not be surprised if Leia was angling for a public announcement – from a political standpoint, it would be infinitely better to control the narrative herself, rather than risk the chance – even if it was the slimmest of chances – of a malicious party getting the drop on her.

She looked up, and over at her grandfather's back.

"I think it's smart of her, then," she said bravely - -and continued: "Gran-Papa, I really don't think that's _all_ it is."

She was confident in that much, at least - -after all, what was the point in professional courtesy if they had no real professional relationship at all? Princes Leia, and Luke, and the Viceroy, could have pulled Pooja aside and told her, _she_ was their professional, they could have left her to deal with the fallout.

Instead, they had reached out – they had asked if the Naberries wanted to have any contact, and they had set aside time to spend a fortnight together – that was more than perfunctory political maneuvering, Pooja felt it in her soul – though if her grandfather needed to protect himself, and his broken heart, by trying to remain aloof – she could allow that, for the time being, and hope that he would see things differently in time.

* * *

Leia had settled on clothing that was just a tiny step up from casual – tailored, tanned leather white pants with pattern in charcoal down each side, comfortable, flat ivory boots, and a blouse that was somewhat like Luke's tunic, except it was white, entirely cotton, and possessed of a thin, fashionable hood that wasn't really there for any reason other than to look neat.

She let it hang down her back, and retied the white cloth belt around the middle of the tunic, peering over the side of the gondola into the clearest lake water she'd seen in quite a long time.

 _Since Alderaan_ , she thought, looking up, eyes gazing about the clear blue skies and the ancient mountains that peppered this region – interesting, how the Lake Country wasn't a sea-level-esque coastal town, but a mountainous haven where the lakes found their niches in deep pockets, and the resorts were built in the lush valleys and cliffs on the edge of the water.

Leia shifted onto her knees, looking around her alertly, and when she turned a little, she felt Han reach up and place both hands on her hips, giving her a wary look.

"You're gonna flip the balance," he muttered grimly, shooting both the restful water, and the gondola captain, a wary look.

She tilted her head down at him, and then returned to her seat, moving a little closer to his side. He slid his arm around her waist, and Luke sat forward, pointing up towards a cluster of trees on the far side of the lake.

"There's a field over there where wild Shaaks roam," he said. "Pooja told me Anakin used to take them over there and make a fool of himself trying to ride them."

Han glanced over, and gave Luke a look.

"He took a couple kids to hang out with wild animals. Nice guy," he said dully.

Luke glared at him.

"Shaaks are less harmless than thrantas and you know it," he retorted. "And she," Luke pointed at Luke accusingly, "grew up practically glued to a thranta."

Han looked to Leia expectantly, and she shrugged at him, nodding.

"I did love my thranta," she confirmed.

He scowled a little, and she patted his arm blithely.

"You're my thranta now, dear," she said, patronizing.

Luke laughed. Han scooped water up in his palm and flicked it at the kid.

"Hey," grumbled Luke, wiping his face. "You better behave yourself," he ordered.

Han gave him an innocent look.

"I always behave," he said seriously.

Leia bit her lip, and grinned – joking aside, she knew Han was going to be on his best behavior for this meeting. The best way to ensure Han handled himself as decently as possible was to imply to him that any infraction would cause Leia a large amount of stress and – voila, he acted as if he'd never so much as considered breaking a law in his life.

Usually.

He at least – _tried_ twice as hard to control himself.

"We'll be approaching the dock," the gondola captain said in his soft, mellow, and unassuming voice. "Be wary of the moss; it can be quite slick."

Han checked the bottom of his boots, scrubbing his hand along the sole to see if he had good traction. Leia grabbed his hand, giving his palm an outraged look –

"You have – to shake – someone's hand," she hissed, brushing at the dirt he'd accumulated. "What is the matter with you?" she demanded. "Your hand is all dirty!"

Han wrestled his hand back and casually dusted it off on his pants, giving her a smug look.

"Is that your go-to stalling tactic?" he asked, amused. "Bring up someone's dirty hands and try to make a run for it?"

"What?" Luke asked, confused.

Leia glared at Han. Han shot Luke grin.

"She got dirty hands the first time I tried to kiss her," he announced, as if it were a flu she'd developed in the moment.

"My hands _were_ dirty," Leia said narrowly.

"Yeah, so were mine – still a stupid excuse," Han retorted.

Luke gave them a dull glare, and turned an exasperated look on the gondola captain – leave it to Han and Leia to get into a tense little bickering match over something that happened six years ago.

" _Excuse_? I believe you kissed me anyway!"

"'Cause I could see right through your alleged concern for my health."

Leia rolled her eyes.

"Besides," Han retorted. "My tongue was clean."

Luke groaned.

"I will push you into the lake, Han," Leia threatened.

He pulled her closer to him and she kicked his ankle half-heartedly.

"You two got more annoying after you got married," Luke muttered.

Han ignored him, and showed Leia his palm.

"It's not bad," he said quietly. "You're just fixating."

Leia nodded stiffly. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, letting Han's arm remain loosely around her waist, and she watched the shore approach, her eyes drifting up, up, up – to Varykino, perched so beautifully on the cliffs.

"There are carved stone steps up to the front entrance," Luke said, gesturing past the dock. "The moss isn't so bad on them, though – thank you," he said to the captain, as the gondola brushed gently against the pier.

Luke hopped out with his usual agility, turning to wait. Han swung up onto the pier using one of the wooden posts, and then reached down to take Leia's hand, helping her keep her balance on the step up from the small boat. She smiled at him, and thanked the gondola captain, who bowed low, without a word, and gracefully departed.

Luke beckoned, and turned, leading the way. Leia paused to take a deep breath, and she and Han followed suit – she did not let go of his hand, though her grip was loose. It was a surprising hike up to the place where Varykino was situated, and Han found himself looking up as they ascended, already impressed with the size of the mansion – seemed more like it should be someone's bed-and-breakfast resort rather than one family's private lake home –

He stopped to remind himself that he had married into that sort of thing. Mansions and palaces and _– that mountain cabin on Corellia Leia bought._ He arched an eyebrow to himself – this place was grander than that, though; Leia's more subdued architectural tastes shined in the Corellian hideaway.

Luke hopped up the final step and then paused, waiting again – and instead of leading them directly to the paved and shining front porch, where grandiose columns clearly established the front entrance, he took a path around to the back – a well-keep, neat little courtyard, with elegant stone benches, flowers, trees, fruit bushes – and, Leia noticed, children's toys strewn around; a training speeder, two dolls, a garishly painted fake blaster.

She stopped when Luke stopped, and he stood at the door with her, studying her patiently.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Leia looked back at him silently. She tightened her grip on Han's hand a little, and gave a small, smooth nod – _yes; ready – decision made, already committed –_ and truth be told, her curiosity had gotten stronger, gotten the better of her, with every minute that this inched closer.

Luke lifted a brass doorknocker, and clicked it twice against the door - gently.

Leia heard footsteps immediately, and held her breath – only to have the first person she saw when the door swung open be her father. She took a step back, startled, and then narrowed her eyes, glaring at him.

"Father," she hissed – if she'd stomped her foot, she might have looked exactly like she did when she was a teenager, minus the man hanging on her arm.

Bail grinned a little apologetically.

"They didn't want to ambush you at the door," he said, stepping back and ushering them in.

Luke went in easily, familiar with it, and Leia forced herself to follow with the same appearance of grace, tugging Han behind her. Bail went to shut the door, giving Han's hand an annoyed look.

"You can let go of her," he said.

Han shook his head.

"No, I can't," he said flatly – Leia was holding too tight.

"He can't," Leia echoed. "I glued his fingers to mine," she said, almost caustically. She stopped, standing close to him, and looking about the muted, unassuming back entrance to the house.

She kept her hand in Han's, and looked at her father apprehensively, drawing strength from his warmth. She raised her eyebrows – _well, Father?_ – and he nodded, tilting his head.

"They're gathered in one of the sunrooms," he said.

Luke grinned, and strode off in that direction.

" _One_ of the sunrooms?" Han asked.

"Yes," Bail said, turning a beady look on Han. "This is a rather nice place, so you might have considered wearing a clean shirt."

Han plucked at the collar of his white shirt.

"This is clean, _Dad_ ," he retorted. "It's just yellow-ish 'cause it's old."

"Oh, wonderful. That's cheering."

"Lighten up," Han ordered.

"Leia, can't you buy him some new clothes?" Bail asked shortly.

Leia blinked, turning her head – she'd been watching after Luke. She seemed to shake herself, and rolled her eyes – she tended to tune them out when they bickered, since it was mostly innocuous ribbing, these days.

"Are we going to stand in the foyer all afternoon?" Leia asked pointedly.

Bail cleared his throat, and turned, beckoning. He led them through open corridors, and Han busied himself looking around, while Leia stayed close on her father's heels. She steadied herself by reaching out to Luke through the Force, very tentatively, and he happily offered her a firm, ethereal hand.

 _They're really nice people, Leia. They're so good._

Leia nodded, and took a deep breath, entering the sunroom so firmly behind her father that for a moment, she was almost hiding behind him, like she used to when she was very small, and he was meeting with scary, imposing Imperial figures.

"Well," to Leia's surprise, it was Luke who began, rather than her Father, though she couldn't tell if it was choreographed that way, or if Luke just caught Bail off guard. Bail stepped to the side as Leia stepped forward, hastily moving into view to avoid seeming rude.

She tried to get a good view of the room she was facing as Luke spoke –

"So, this is my sister," he said, making up for what he lacked in refinery with genuine heart, "Leia," he introduced, a sort of amused smile on his face. "I know you know who she is but," he shrugged, and then he pointed to Han. "And her husband, Han," he added.

He ran a hand over his jaw a little sheepishly – it did seem odd to introduce them, famous as they were, but it seemed odd not to introduce them, and Leia found it to be a good idea, at least, that he just spoke of them as Leia and Han. No titles, not official recognition – that's who they were here to be, after all; simply Leia and Han.

Leia counted six people gathered in the room – she wasn't sure who was missing, other than the littlest children, because she wasn't sure who was who; it was one of the husbands who was absent – and the first person who spoke was not the woman who was approaching her.

"Ah, yes; I think we've heard of them," a woman standing next to Pooja said, and Pooja laughed at the lighthearted joke.

Leia had only a moment to smile a little appreciatively before the woman standing in front of her was consuming her vision. She looked at her earnestly, studying Leia's face with intensity Leia hadn't quite anticipated – and she hoped she was living up. Her eyes creased with happiness, and she clasped her hands, raising her fingertips to her lips for a moment. She took a deep breath, and then held out her hand.

"I'm Jobal," she said kindly. "Padmé's mother."

The moment Leia accepted her hand to shake, Jobal covered it with her other hand, pressing warmly. Leia nodded to her, finally slipping her other hand from Han's. He folded his arms patiently, taking one step back to give Leia some room – and Pooja stepped up next.

"This is Sola," she said, practically dragging her mother with her. " _My_ mother," she reminded Leia. "She's Padmé's sister."

Jobal released Leia so Leia could shake Sola's hand, as well, and Sola smiled at her matter-of-factly, exuding intelligence, and a good sense of humor.

"I'll tell you what we've told Luke," she remarked, "you've really grown since we last saw you," she quipped wryly.

Leia arched her brows, unsure how to react for a moment.

Han, however, snorted.

"Han, it's good to meet you," Sola said, extending her hand to him. "I've noted that you appreciate my jokes. I'll remember that."

Han shook her hand firmly, smirking. Jobal and Sola switched places as Jobal introduced herself to Han, and Sola leaned in to kiss Leia's cheek.

"It will be overwhelming for a moment," she said frankly. "We fawned over Luke, as well – Darred?"

She waved her hand, stepping to the side, and placed her hand on the approaching man's shoulder.

"My husband, Darred," she said. "He took my name when we were married. It was at the height of Padmé's career. Carried a lot of power," she remarked.

Darred rolled his eyes and shook Leia's hand.

"Nice to meet you, Princess."

"Leia, please," she said immediately, flushing.

He nodded.

"Leia," he agreed.

Darred moved on to Han – and Sola gestured.

"You know Pooja, of course; she's my youngest and Ryoo – well, Ryoo and Whyler have both disappeared," Sola frowned, looking consternated.

The remaining man in the room stepped up, his expression quiet.

"Ryoo went to tend to some minor histrionics," he said, stepping up beside Jobal.

He looked at Leia for a very long moment, silent, and thoughtful. He extended his hand stiffly, cautiously even, and cleared his throat.

"Ruwee Naberrie," he said quietly. "Padmé's father."

Leia took his hand. His shake was very firm, and he looked at her intently - but Leia also felt like he was looking through her. She did not miss the slight glance he made over her shoulder, towards her father, and she wondered what was simmering there.

Han seemed to sense the heaviness of Ruwee's scrutiny, and he cleared his throat, barging in with his hand.

"Han Solo," he said, in a tone so polite that Leia could practically feel her father having a coronary – shaking hands and saying – "Nice to meet you, sir." – was a far cry from Han's first interaction with Bail, in which he'd stormed into the room without a shirt on and essentially yelled at Bail to get out of his apartment.

"Hush, hush, darling."

Leia heard another voice and looked up, her eyes catching Ruwee's again – he seemed so withdrawn, so uncertain, and it rattled her a little. She supposed it was grief, shock, everything – but a distraction from that came in the form of a woman she assumed was Ryoo, Pooja's older sister.

Ryoo approached them politely, with a much kinder smile on her face than her father's, and a much less reserved quietude. She was holding a young child, and the little girl was twisting one of Ryoo's braids in her hands, whispering in her ear.

"Hush," Ryoo said again, giving Leia a look that read like – _please bear with me._ She stopped with a sigh in front of Leia.

"I'm sorry, my husband and I have been trying to contain these monsters," she said fondly, nodding her head at the girl, obviously referencing her other children, as well. "We're more than happy to meet you," she said, nodding at both Leia, and Han, " and if you'll forgive me, ah, General Solo, my daughter wanted to tell you something. She's been anxious all afternoon."

Han looked taken aback. He glanced at Leia, and then glanced at Ryoo's daughter – five years old, he remembered Leia saying - but small for her age, and she was staring at him with wide eyes.

Ryoo nudged her.

"Maiah," she coaxed.

The little girl pointed at Han.

"You're _pretty,_ " she told him.

Luke started laughing.

Ryoo rolled her eyes apologetically.

"She's seen you on the holos," she said. "She really wanted to make sure you knew," she added solemnly.

"Oh," Han said, shooting a look at Luke for his muffled laughter. "Well, uh. Thanks," he said seriously, looking straight at the little girl.

She immediately buried her face in Ryoo's neck, and Ryoo laughed, patting her head.

"Oh, now don't hide!" she teased.

"Hmm, as if he needs another thing going to his head," Leia remarked, reaching out to lightly touch Han's elbow.

He grinned at her.

"My boys are around here somewhere," Ryoo said.

"They're in the garden."

Ryoo turned, and stepped aside for the last adult.

"They're going to kill each other. I give up. I can't stop it," the man said, shaking his head. He leaned in and gave Ryoo a kiss on the cheek and then turned to Han and Leia. He put his hand out firmly. "Whyler Vex," he said gruffly.

"My husband," Ryoo offered.

"He's our family Han," Sola remarked wryly, as Whyler was letting go of Leia's hand, and turning to take Han's.

"What's that mean for you?" Han asked him, giving the room a wary look.

"Ah," Whyler said dryly. "Means Ryoo's parents hated me at first," he said.

"Been there," Han said, jerking his thumb at Bail.

"I never hated Han," Bail argued diplomatically. "We had our differences – "

"Well, they hated me," Whyler said cheerfully. He stepped back and nudged Ruwee with what Leia would call a certain amount of bravery. "Ol' Naberrie here still does," he said flippantly.

"Yes, Jobal, I can see what you meant about them getting along," Bail said dryly, looking between Whyler and Han.

"How'd you win 'em over?" Han asked crossing his arms.

Whyler turned to Ryoo and took Maiah from her, smirking.

"Gave 'em this," he said, looking down at her. "Ain't that right, baby?"

Maiah giggled at him. She put her hand over his mouth.

"Shhh, Daddy," she whispered. She lifted her head and looked around the room, tilting her head. She reached up and pulled at the two knots on her head keeping her hair back. She leaned over and whispered something to Whyler.

"No," he said lightly, shaking his head. He bent down to place her on the ground, and gave her a little nudge on the shoulders. "Go save your brothers from themselves," he said seriously.

Little Maiah Vex stood at his foot, snaking her arm around his leg and resting her head on his knee.

"What does she want?" Ryoo murmured, looking quizzically.

Whyler gave her a look, and nodded at Han.

"She wants him to pick her up."

Ryoo laughed.

"Maiah, go play," she said.

Maiah grinned at Han instead.

He felt Luke staring at him – and Jobal, and Bail too, for that matter, and feeling very judged suddenly – if also very uncomfortable – Han cleared his throat.

"I can – well that's – it's easy right?" he stammered. He crouched down and put one arm out.

"Have you ever held a baby?" Luke asked, snorting mockingly.

"She's not a baby, Luke," Pooja laughed, mocking him right back.

Maiah leapt away from her father and tiptoed over to Han silently. He hesitated for a moment, and then picked her up – she was light as a feather, which surprised him even though it shouldn't have. He put her on his hip, finding it a pretty automatically natural movement, and arched his brows at her.

Maiah turned and gave her parents a smug smile. Han cleared his throat, proud of himself. He turned smugly to gauge Bail's reaction. Next to him, Leia made eye contact with the little girl, and smiled at her guardedly.

She leaned across Han and put her hand on Leia's shoulder, plucking at her blouse.

"Sooo pretty," she sang, blushing, and Leia wasn't sure if she was talking about herself, or still talking about Han.

Han grinned.

"Hey, the kid's got good taste," he said.

"You ought to watch out, Leia," Sola said wryly. "My granddaughter is angling for your man."

"That's enough, alright," Ryoo said with a laugh. "Whyler – take her back." Her tone was lighthearted, but she gave her husband a somewhat annoyed look – she didn't know if Han and Leia liked children, and Whyler hadn't stepped in quick enough to put a stop to Maiah's clinginess.

He stepped up to oblige, but not before Han caught sight of Leia watching him. Letting Whyler take Maiah, he tilted his head at Leia subtly, lifting his eyebrows, and her eyes looked icy for a moment, then blank – and she turned her gaze away.

Han grit his teeth a little – kriff, she was going to think he did that on purpose, tried to argue with her without explicitly arguing with her –

His line of thought was, thankfully, interrupted by a piercing shriek – Whyler was putting Maiah down on the floor, and as he did, an older child came charging in, followed closely by a younger one whom Leia assumed was Maiah's twin.

The older one leapt up towards Ryoo, attaching himself to her side and eyeing the newcomers sharply. The little one mimicked the same position, except with his father, and Ryoo gave Han and Leia another apologetic look.

"This is Iver," Whyler said, pointing to the boy at his feet – he looked just like Maiah, except he was male, and much less immediately infatuated with Han. "And that – "

"Let him do it," Ryoo interrupted.

Ryoo put her hands on the boy's shoulders encouragingly and moved him forward, having him stand directly in front of her, and he stared up at both Luke and Han like they were Gods, eyes wide, hands clasped in front of him excitedly.

He fidgeted, moving from foot to foot.

"Are they the real ones?" he asked in a very loud whisper.

Stepping back a little, because she assumed she was of no interest to the boys – and she hadn't been of much interest to Maiah, either – Leia exchanged an amused look with her father.

"Yes," Ryoo said wryly. She nodded. "Luke Skywalker," she introduced, "and Han Solo."

"From the battles?" he asked. "The _real_ space battles? Are you sure? You promise?"

Ryoo laughed.

"Yes," she said again. "Would I lie to you? How did I teach you to greet people?"

He stuck his hand out shyly, and Luke moved forward, kneeling down and taking it gallantly.

"Hey there," he said, shaking firmly.

Ryoo's son grinned, shaking it enthusiastically, then rapidly withdrew his hand and offered it to Han next. Han, a little bewildered, stepped closer and shook it. He found himself impressed with the kid's grip – but it was probably enthusiasm, rather than knowing how to deliver a good handshake.

"Can I see your ship?" he asked seriously. He turned to Luke. "Can I see your lightsaber?" He widened his eyes. "Are you already married? My sister wants to marry you."

Neither Han nor Luke knew which of them the question was directed to.

"Han's married to Princess Leia," Ryoo said gently. "You remember," she reminded him.

"What's your name, kid?" Han asked, amused.

"Ooh, he called you kid," Luke encouraged solemnly. "That means you're his friend."

Ryoo's son lit up like a firecracker.

"I'm Indy!" he introduced, flattening his palm against his chest. He looked up at Han seriously. "Is your Wookiee here?" He pointed his hands at Han, mimicking holding a bowcaster. "I like his weapon. It's _cool_."

"Nah, Chewie's with his family. On his planet," Han answered easily.

"Oh. Okay," Indy said. He looked at them, and then he turned to Leia, and he stepped forward, sweeping his hand across his middle and bowing. "Your highness," he said solemnly.

Leia smiled. She leaned forward and touched his shoulder lightly.

"You don't have to do that," she said, hoping her voice sounded kind. She smiled at him encouragingly. "You can call me Leia."

"Ah –" Ryoo said, shaking her head. "No, Indy, how do we dress adults we've just met?"

Leia compressed her lips, suppressing a wince – she hadn't meant to step on Ryoo's toes. Ryoo gave her a look that implied she ought not to worry at all.

"She said call her Leia!" the boy protested.

"Indy."

He sighed, and turned to Leia seriously.

"Mrs.," he paused, furrowing his brow. He looked at her, and then looked at Han, and then decided: "Mrs. Solo," he said pleasantly. He held out his hand.

Leia took it, and the quiet, irritated noise she heard her father make under his breath made her burst into a smile as she bent a little to shake the young boy's hand.

"Is that right?" he asked. "Or did you not change? My grandmother didn't change. My mom did," he explained.

"Mrs. Solo is fine," Leia agreed politely. "It's very nice to meet you, Indy."

"Did I bow good?" he asked. "I practiced. I know a lot of customs. I like to know them," he said rapidly.

Leia nodded solemnly.

"It was a perfect bow," she said. "Very honorable."

Indy looked relieved, and then stepped back, and darted over to Luke.

"I want to hear all about the Jedi," he said, without taking a breath, "and your X-wing. Do you know Wedge Antilles? Do you know Shara Bey?" He glanced up at Han again. "Can I see your blaster?"

At that question, Bail made an alarmed noise.

"Han, are you _armed_?" he asked.

Indy pointed.

"Yes, I can see his blaster," he answered.

Han put his hand over the holster a little guiltily.

"I'm – well, I'm always armed," he retorted, exasperated. "Luke's armed!" He almost whined – Luke never got called out for his lightsaber; it was as if the whole damn galaxy considered a lightsaber a perfectly safe, harmless thing to have on you at the dinner table – !

"It's nothing to worry about, Bail, Han," Jobal said, speaking up calmly. "Han, I'm sure it would be impossible for a small child to get your blaster from you, yes?"

Han looked at her seriously, and then shot Bail an annoyed look.

"Yeah," he agreed. "The last person who disarmed me was – "

He stopped talking abruptly. Leia lifted her hand and ran it over her lips, automatically realizing he'd been about to say – _Vader_. She put her hand on his arm and squeezed, looking apologetically at Jobal.

"I apologize," she said diplomatically. "It escaped my mind – we don't always think about it, arming ourselves," she said. "I assure you, Han will keep the blaster secured," she looked at him quickly, "and unloaded."

He nodded to confirm, looking up to reiterate with another nod – easy enough; they were clearly in no danger here.

"It really doesn't matter," Sola said. "It's not a social faux pas," she looked at Leia frankly, one eyebrow raised. "Leia, everything here is going to be awkward and excessively polite and a handful of other synonyms for those things," she said, "wouldn't you agree?"

Leia smiled at her faintly, and lifted her shoulders.

"Yes," she said wryly. "I think I would."

"Then," Sola said, clasping her hands, "we ought to just accept that, and move on. Pooja, will you entertain the kids so Ryoo and Whyler can have a break?" she asked.

Pooja nodded, and Luke stood from his crouched position, looking at his cousin eagerly.

"I'll help," he offered, and both Indy and Iver sucked in their breath, eyes wide with delight.

"Mami and I will get Han and Leia settled," Sola said matter-of-factly. She looked down at her feet, where Maiah was sidling up. "Maiah, starlight, why don't you go with Darry," she said, gesturing to her husband, "and pick some flowers," she advised. "You can make a chain for Princess Leia."

Leia started to correct her, but Sola winked at her.

"She likes that there's a Princess here," she whispered, while Maiah looked hopefully at Darred. He picked her up, and Ryoo folded her arms, shaking her head.

"I do hope the kids haven't already made you regret this," she said dryly. "That's actually calm, for the twins – and be careful," she said, arching a brow pointedly as she looked between Han and Leia – "that's likely what you're in for," she joked, "twins run in the family, _both_ sides."

Leia folded her arms, running her hand over her neck. She smiled tensely, though Ryoo didn't notice.

"You hear how they skip a generation – well, not if you're a Naberrie," she warned.

It was Ruwee who suddenly spoke.

"Ryoo," he said, a little sharply. "You're ambushing them."

Ryoo flushed, taken aback, and then shook her head, blanching.

"Oh, I'm – Gran-Papa is right; Han, Leia, I didn't mean," she waved her hand. "Ignore me," she said hastily.

Han shrugged good-naturedly, and Leia gave Ryoo a tight smile – a smile that these people who barely knew her on a personal level couldn't identify as a strained one, though Han – and even Bail – noticed the discomfort immediately. To Han it wasn't altogether unfamiliar – but Bail frowned slightly, his brow furrowing.

Ryoo cleared her throat, her cheeks still warm.

"I'm going to have a day servant begin the process of dinner, and ready some tea and – kaffe?" she guessed, pointing to Whyler, Han, and Ruwee.

The three men nodded, and Ryoo gave Leia another apologetic look, a small wince. Leia waved her hand, wanting to remain affable and unreadable – she felt a little dizzy; it was so many people to take in at once, and all of them – _family, family, family_ \- !

Han put a hand on her shoulder, stepping closer. Bail cleared his throat, and Leia heard him say something about doing what he could to help Ryoo. Han bent to press a light, chaste kiss to the side of Leia's head, and he slid one hand into his pocket, nodding at Sola and Jobal gruffly – waiting to be shown where they'd be staying for the duration of the trip.

* * *

Leia wasn't sure how to define her feelings, as she stood in the room they'd been given later that evening.

It was her father who had given her an out – _they've been traveling, it's been a long day; Leia do you want to go to bed?_

She accepted the excuse gratefully, but the thing was – she hadn't been uncomfortable, and she hadn't been eager to escape. The afternoon had been pleasant – low stress. Leia knew everyone had been holding back, easing into each other – just barely getting a feel for what this would be like. She was _glad_ that they seemed to be so receptive, though part of her felt constantly on edge – they were going to start talking about Vader, and Padmé, all of their history, and Leia was sure there would be fights –

But today had been nice; this welcome had been nice, and she could breathe a little, she could feel a little optimistic.

She had no idea how she was going to approach them about her desire to be transparent about her heritage, because at this moment, she had no true grasp on how they felt about their daughter's romantic choices, her death - the Empire, Vader, and everything that had happened since then.

She only knew that they were kind, a close family; they made excellent tea, and little Maiah, all of five years old and very affectionate, could link together a particularly lovely flower chain, which she had done, in the form of two bracelets that she had given to Leia.

Leia ran her fingertips over them now, brushing the tiny red flowers and the thin stalks they were attached to. She shifted her weight; reaching up to take the last pins out of her hair and lay them down on the vanity that was up against the wall of their guest room.

Anxiety twisted in her stomach – it was discomfiting that she'd _known_ there would be children here, and yet they still made her a little wary. She had never had a problem with children, but she hadn't been around them much, either; she was the youngest child in the nursery on Alderaan, and she ran in adult circles from a young age.

It wasn't that, though; she knew how to interact with children. It was _Han,_ picking up that little girl as if he was trying to make a statement – he couldn't just let it go for a while –

"Hey, Sweetheart, you done in the 'fresher?" he asked gruffly from behind her.

"Hmm? Yeah," Leia murmured, taking her last hairpin out.

She shook her hair loosely and turned, sitting against the vanity for a moment. Han waved off the 'fresher light, running his hand over the back of his head. He yawned, and then trudged over to the bed, looking over it. He glanced over at her and lifted his eyebrows suggestively.

She smiled, and then went to pull the curtains to the window, leaving the balcony door cracked open a little – it was so balmy and warm outside, she'd rather the fresh air drift in during the night. She went to join Han in bed, pushing her pillows towards the middle – it really was a very spacious bed.

She burrowed under the sheets and turned onto her side, facing Han – and sighed heavily, dramatically closing her eyes.

"You survived," Han said.

Leia nodded, and he moved closer, pressing kisses to her forehead. He combed his fingers through her hair, and ran his hands over her for a moment, and then he let her go, shifting back to give her some space. Leia opened her eyes and gazed at him, silent, and thoughtful.

"It could have been worse," she murmured.

Han nodded.

"On the other hand, it can go downhill from here," Leia said logically.

"Don't think like that," Han retorted.

Leia smiled a little.

"I can't help it," she admitted.

Han gave her a look – he knew that about her. He couldn't change it, and he'd already made himself available to her in all the ways he could for the duration of this struggle, so he lay there next to her, not finding it pertinent to say anything.

Leia yawned, and reached up to cover her mouth, and Han reached out to take her wrist, running his thumb over her pulse point, catching his fingers in the flower chain bracelet she hadn't yet taken off. Leia held her hand between them, looking at it.

"Hey," Han said, eyes on the flowers. "You notice that Indy's about nine?" he asked.

Leia nodded.

"Ryoo and Whyler, they been married – six years?" Han went on.

"Mmhmm," Leia murmured. She lowered her wrist. "Indy isn't Whyler's," she whispered, "not biologically. "Luke mentioned it. Seems Ryoo was pretty wild. Whyler adopted him."

"Kid's dad's a deadbeat?"

Leia compressed her lips and arched her brows.

"I think there's, ah, some question about – paternity," she said delicately.

"Oh," Han said, amused.

He looped his fingers under the flower bracelet.

"Kinda weird," he muttered. "The way those kids act about us."

Leia nodded. She hesitated, and then she said –

"It's eerie. It's almost as if it's this – generational detachment," she said quietly. "There's Jobal and Ruwee, Sola and Darred, who were all there, and very aware, of what was happening when the Republic fell – and then Ryoo and Pooja, who have sort of, childlike memories," she paused, and lifted her shoulders, pulling the covers around her, "and the little ones. They don't know anything. They wouldn't have even understood the Empire."

In essence, it was likely that none of this drama would ever be anything to Ryoo's kids other than stories they were told; the Rebellion was just a holo film, the Empire was a scary bedtime story – _hopefully_ , Leia thought; _hopefully we can make the world fine for them._

Leia slipped the flower bracelet off and tucked it up on the shelf in the headboard of the bed, settling down on her side. She felt tired, but she felt like she wanted some silence, to think, as well – and suddenly, talking even vaguely about Ryoo's children, she felt like Han was on edge, and that put her on edge.

She turned her head a little to look at him, and he seemed fine, so she tried to relax a little – _there are three little kids here; I have to get used to it – the word is going to come up -_

Han lay on his back staring up at the vaulted ceiling, his eyes alert. He heard her moving around, and he wondered what she was thinking. He didn't want to say anything, because he was wary Leia might take it the wrong way, and think he wanted to talk about – instead he focused on the luxury of the room they were in, and after staring in disbelief at the intricately carved ceiling, he put his hands behind his head and looked at Leia, twisting his head pointedly.

"This bed is nice," he drawled. "Why isn't our bed this nice?"

Leia turned onto her side, facing him, eyes closed lightly.

"Our bed is nice," she murmured.

Han shifted closer – this one was so spacious there was an almost annoying gap between them when he took his usual place on the left.

"Not this nice," he retorted.

"I beg to differ."

"How's our bed nicer than this?" Han asked.

"This bed is equally as nice as ours as far as you're concerned."

"Yeah? How so?"

"I'm in it with you," Leia murmured primly, peeking out one eye for a moment.

Han blinked at her for a moment, and then grinned, rolling over closer. He put his mouth close to her ear.

"You're making sleepy jokes, Princess, that's cute," he teased.

She yawned, and purposely closed her mouth on his nose and mouth playfully for a moment before snuggling closer, relieved that the tension seemed to have eased for a moment – wondering if it was tension she was imagining, or even creating herself – she swallowed hard, and tucked her head against his neck, right where she felt safe, and comfortable. He slipped his arms around her and settled down to go to sleep, pressing a smile against her shoulder warmly, and breathing her in – he wanted this trip to be harmless, but something pricked at the back of his mind – _how long are we going to ignore the issue, Leia?_

When she deflected, she used this as an excuse; _Han, I just need to get through this thing with the Naberries_ – but something told him being here was going to be a catalyst more than anything else.

* * *

 _laying some groundwork, laying some groundwork._  
 _feedback appreciated!_

 _-alexandra_


	5. Four

_a/n: there's really no slow build up in this like there was in Identity -_

* * *

 _ **Four**_

* * *

They were good people, the Naberries. Luke had been utterly truthful in his representation of them, and though Leia trusted her brother, she was also conscious of his tendency to see the good in all people, sometimes at the expense of fairly acknowledging the bad, so she had remained cautious. It was as he told her, though, and for that she was grateful.

They were hospitable, warm, and kind; clearly a very tightly knit family that relied on internal ties with each other to a powerful degree, and Leia supposed that came from the veritable exile they had experienced under Imperial rule. The knowledge that one wrong move had the potential to attract the full weight of tyrannical wrath no doubt engendered an invaluable sense of unity amongst them.

Jobal Naberrie was the sort of effortlessly pleasant women who set everyone around her at ease, a matriarch full of genuine goodwill and strength of spirit that Leia could tentatively associate with Breha Organa, and she wondered if her father thought the same. Sola was sharp-tongued but not cruel, matter-of-fact and witty, clearly the head of her own family where her husband, Darred, was mild-mannered and thoughtful, more of a caregiver than a brash, brawny male.

Pooja was – well, Pooja; she was earnest, she could be over-excitable, but she was smart, and so fierce – Luke was right; she was the mouthpiece of the family, during this time. Ryoo was sweet, absorbed in motherhood, as women with young children often were; she had a tendency to speak without thinking, and to ramble and worry, and her husband, Whyler, laughed at everything and took nothing seriously, least of all his reticent, growling grandfather-in-law – Leia thought Luke had accurately pegged Ruwee Naberrie: he was reserved, quiet, perhaps even withdrawn; Leia easily recognized persistent grief in his eyes, and she thought – though perhaps her thoughts were unfounded - that he watched her with reproach.

Despite how hated their family surname had been by the Empire - they were thriving on each other; they'd continued to live, even in the shadows.

They were caring, and they loved each other, and in a way, it reminded Leia of how close her family had been on Alderaan, Organa and Antilles both, and she felt nostalgic, and she felt a burgeoning sense of hope that she and Luke could easily have a good relationship with these people who belonged to Padmé, and by virtue of that, to them.

Yet they made her nervous, as well – naturally, she felt like an interloper, someone dropped in the middle of their dynamic who forced them to reopen old wounds and confront old pains. She was sure Luke felt some semblance of that anxiety as well, though Luke, with his peace of mind and constant efforts in positivity, found it easier to acclimate himself.

She would not necessarily define her state of mind as _on edge_ ; the atmosphere at Varykino was polite, and not uncomfortably so; it was laid back – Leia almost felt like she was at one of the seasonal retreats at home, work worries gone out the window, cocooned in laziness for a little while – and it was almost surreal.

Nothing, she believed, had really settled yet – everyone knew all the facts, but they were still such strangers to each other, and the truth was such a strange specter, and so a protective veneer of amiability shielded all of them.

Interestingly enough, Ryoo's little ones provided plenty of distraction and conversation. They were nice children – still learning their manners, always testing the limits of their parents, though not in any way that was unusual compared to most human children. They were always the first ones awake – save Luke, up at the crack of dawn to meditate – and always chattering away or running off and causing mayhem. It was, in many ways, a relief; they had no inhibitions about the visitors, no qualms, no past to contend with - they were kids, they were blank slates, and in many respects, they were little buffers.

Leia – struggled around them, despite how calm she appeared – or resolved to appear. She wasn't necessarily bad with children, and she wasn't afraid of _Ryoo's_ children, but their constant presence was like a visceral reminder of the subtle – fault lines weaving through her relationship with Han, right now.

It didn't help that, despite his initial wariness and awkwardness around Maiah, Han seemed to be startlingly at ease around kids – Han hadn't even flinched when Iver, in a fit of stubbornness, accidentally spilled juice all over him; he'd only grinned, even though the realization that he'd just knocked a cup of juice onto _Han Solo_ terrified Iver into behaving – he was so unbothered by them that Leia struggled with a probably unfair, even cruel, suspicion that he was doing it to antagonize her – and every time she watched him interact with them, she felt a twist in her stomach that she hadn't quite yet been able to identify as _good_ or _bad_.

She set it aside for later – she kept telling herself, and him, it was something to be dealt with _later_.

The present was for – these family truths and growing pains.

It often took Leia a day or so to ease into vacation mode – a state of being in which she was not constantly online and available for contact. Thus, she spent the better of her first full day at Varykino half-online and dealing with both Winter and her assistant – and one polite, but frustrated call from Evaan Verlaine that was a thinly veiled plea for her to _get Aunt Rouge out of the office_ \- and the Naberries were extremely understanding about it.

Pooja was handling a lot of minor issues in regards to Naboo, as well, so she and Leia spent some time together in one of the offices, as other family members ran in and out – and often while Indy Vex watched, asking them very intelligent political questions –

"He'll run for Senate eventually, I'm sure," Pooja said. "He can actually dream of it now, of course, but Gran-Papa still has trouble remembering it's okay for him to dream of it," she confided in Leia, and then laughed, saying – "I'd say he almost wishes he was a girl; then he could be Queen of Naboo!"

Leia smiled, amenable to Pooja's company – and she was grateful to the hosts for understanding that, even with the utmost planning, her position did not always allow for a completely peaceful holiday – her honeymoon had been near that, but in order not to raise too many probing questions about her visit to the family home of a well-known Nubian senator, Leia had not gone completely off the radar, and she was still expected to answer certain communiques.

It was towards the later morning on her second day that things calmed down, and Pooja, finding Leia putting things away in the outer chamber of the room she was staying in, offered to take her down to Padmé's final resting place.

"It's one of the first things I showed Luke," Pooja had explained tentatively. "I think he's out there now. He meditates - -you know that, I guess," she went on.

The idea of it – had daunted Leia, to an extent, but she agreed, and Pooja led her out the back of the vast mansion house, and even past the courtyard. The weather was so perfect, and the air had none of that dim, smoggy Coruscant pollution to it.

"It must seem like a morbid suggestion," Pooja said, guiding Leia down a path to her favorite part of the gardens just as she had Luke. "I have an affinity for cemeteries, though. Graves…they don't scare me, they make me feel very alive. Like I'm sitting among the people who have put work into the world, and they're relying on me to continue it," she went on. She looked up at the sun. "And, I think it might, sort of – well, how to put it; ground you, make it real?"

She turned her head slightly to look at Leia as they walked.

"I'm sure Padmé is just an abstract concept to you. A story," she murmured. "If you see her here…it might make you feel more like she was real, and…she's here, and you are here, because of her – so maybe we won't feel like strangers."

She glanced away, and up the path, subtly gesturing to another turn.

"You'll tell me if you're uncomfortable, though," Pooja ventured after a moment. "If it _is_ macabre for you."

"It isn't," Leia said quietly – she had been listening, intently, to her cousin's words, and taking in the beauty of the flora around them as she saw more of the grounds. She'd of course been given a formal tour of everything yesterday, but she had more time to take it in now.

She looked over at Pooja warmly.

"I understand what you're saying," she said. "In Alderaanian culture, death wasn't feared," she added.

"I think it's easier to live, if you're not afraid to die," Pooja reflected mildly. "Although, I don't mean you should be reckless or – _want_ death," she added hastily.

Leia laughed.

"There are a lot of people who think they want death until it grabs them by the throat," she said, arching a brow sagely.

"You must have seen much of that, in the war," Pooja murmured.

Leia lifted her shoulders.

"Experienced it, to an extent, myself," she murmured honestly – those days after Alderaan – _I'd rather be dead_ – and then her first terrible brush with death after Yavin, blaster bolts screaming by her ear – _no, no, I'm not done with the world yet - !_

Leia lifted her arm and pointed, gesturing lightly all around them.

"These are hydenock," she remarked - she was fairly sure she knew, but she still made the statement a little slowly, to give Pooja plenty of room to correct her.

"Yes," Pooja said eagerly. "Your father loves them," she noted. "He came out to pay his respects to Padmé as well, and he sat out here for ages."

"They grew on Alderaan," Leia murmured. "Huge ones, old, and ancient," she said, spreading her arms up and out to indicate. She paused, and looked up. "These aren't the same species, but at the evolutionary root – "

"They're the same," Pooja agreed, stopping respectfully as Leia walked around.

"My father had a jewelry box made for me, out of Nubian Hydenock," Leia said quietly. "It was a wedding gift."

She looked at Pooja.

"There's an Alderaanian carpenter living outside of Theed somewhere," she noted.

"You should have let me know sooner," Pooja said earnestly. "You know Naboo will easily involve itself in the patronization of Alderaanians – we'll see to it he or she is taken care of."

Leia beamed – Rouge was the orchestrator of a program that dealt in fostering Alderaanian culture in trade; she sought out any survivor in the diaspora who was any sort of artist, any sort at all, and found ways to encourage, support, and subsidize their work – and made sure they stayed trained and motivated. It was the cornerstone of her cultural preservation program – she was glad of Pooja's immediate desire to help, but luckily, Rouge was already well aware of this woodworker.

"I think I may pay him a visit," Leia remarked, almost to herself – the thought just occurred to her. He'd made such a beautiful gift for her and yes, her father had commissioned it and given it to her, but Leia thought it might be meaningful if she thanked him herself.

She looked up at the trees.

"I love Hydenock," she said.

Pooja followed her gaze, and then beamed.

"I do, too," she said. "It's so lovely. So very…sturdy."

Leia smiled a little sadly – she was sure the wreckage of Alderaan was swirling with Hydenock dust.

She cleared her throat, and glanced sideways at Pooja, nodding – she was fine to carry on. Pooja led her around another crook in the path, past some floral hedges, and as she'd guessed – right around the corner in a thatch of Hydenock trees, Luke was sitting quietly, his back to them, and his head bowed.

Pooja stopped respectfully, and put her hands behind her back. Leia paused as well.

"I'm never sure what to do," Pooja whispered. "He meditates a lot."

Leia nodded. She closed her eyes, tilting her head – Luke would sense her presence very quickly, if she was open enough about it, and she knew better than to tap him on the shoulder or startle him. He never reacted violently, but would often get wildly disoriented, and become irritable, or distracted by whatever he'd been doing.

 _Luke_ , she thought carefully, giving him a very cautious mental nudge.

For a brief moment, she tapped into his meditation, and she felt relaxed, extremely warm – and then Luke sensed her and withdrew from his immersion in the Force.

He lifted his head and turned around fluidly, tilting his chin up. He beamed.

"Hi," he greeted, nodding at both of them. He dusted off his hands and stood up. "Hey, you got away from work!" he said pleasantly, grinning at Leia.

"I persuaded her," Pooja said wryly. She looked between them. "Can you speak telepathically?" she asked, interested.

Leia was never sure how to answer that question. She hesitated, glancing at Luke.

"Well," Luke said reflectively. "You understand intuition?" he asked.

Pooja shrugged, and nodded.

"Theoretically," she said, snorting. "I have terrible intuition."

"It's a thing of degrees," Luke agreed, amused. He pointed between himself and Leia casually. "The Force sensitivity amplifies it – at least, that's the best way I can explain it; so it's really more complex than just telepathy – but it's also – "

"Telepathy," Leia finished dryly, arching an eyebrow.

"Sounds like it could be convenient," Pooja remarked.

"It can be," Leia allowed vaguely. "It can also be," she shot Luke a look, " _annoying_."

Luke smiled blithely. He took a few steps closer to Pooja.

"She's angry because I found out she thinks about how _gorgeous_ Han is when he sleeps, when she's supposed to be listening to confirmation hearings."

Leia flushed, shaking her head at Luke with reproach. Pooja smiled a little, but held her hands up, and took a step back from Luke.

"This is sibling tension I am not going to get into," she laughed, folding her arms. "Maiah and Iver chatter to each other," she said thoughtfully. "Out loud, though, not silently. We can't always understand what they're saying."

"I think that's a common occurrence with twins in general," Leia said logically.

"So, really, just another thing the Force amplifies," Luke added.

"Right," Pooja murmured, her head cocked with interest. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, thinking about it, and then she turned, gesturing down to where Luke had been sitting.

She looked over at Leia.

"Well, here she is," she said simply. She tucked her curly hair behind her ears and then folded her arms back, nodding at the stone.

Leia stepped forward, closer to Luke, and looked down – the stone was tucked away – not necessarily hidden, but obscure in a gentle way, and it was surrounded by an abundance of wildly grown yellow and blue flowers. She looked down on it, reading the name – _Padmé Amidala Naberrie_ – and the quotation under it, which Leia was unable to read, though she tried for a moment.

She turned her head slightly.

"I'm afraid I – don't actually speak your native language," she said, almost angry about it, suddenly. She had been taught so many, but this one – she did not know – and likely on purpose, as a safety precaution, so no one could even marginally connect her to the planet.

"Oh," Pooja said swiftly. "Of course – it's a hymn from our traditional book of peace. _'The acts of this life are the destiny of the next.'_ " She translated easily, and Luke turned to give Leia a sideways glance.

Leia pursed her lips, thinking about the words.

"My grandfather chose it," Pooja added quietly, taking a respectful step back. "He knew she died because of her politics. He knew," Pooja paused, and gave Leia an apologetic look, "he knew the Viceroy was lying about something," she said. "I think he wanted to imply that…killing her didn't kill the ideas she fought for."

Leia cleared her throat quietly - she didn't know much about what her father had told the Naberries back when he brought Padmé's body to them, but she didn't feel an overwhelming need to defend him. She did not feel deprived, and she did not resent her childhood or her father, but she wasn't about to start justifying him on topics she knew very little about, especially if it was a sore spot with the Naberrie family.

"That," Leia said, "is a very inspiring thought."

"It was right," Pooja said, looking at her frankly. She shrugged. "You and Luke were some of the undisputed heroes of the Rebellion."

Luke grinned; putting his arm around Leia's shoulders.

"I thought it was fitting," he said, good-natured. "Seems like she would be proud, huh, Leia?" he asked.

Leia nodded. She reached up to touch Luke's hand, squeezing his fingers gently – yes, it seemed like Padmé would be proud. There seemed to be so much they could learn about her, and all of it was likely wonderful – _except for him_ , Leia thought, loosening her grip on Luke. Baffling, she thought, struggling with herself – _they call you such a smart woman; was there nothing about Anakin Skywalker that set your teeth on edge - ?_

"That's not fair, Leia," Luke murmured aloud, and Leia shook him off a little, stepping to the side.

Pooja watched, but said nothing, and Leia knelt down to run her hand over the lettering on the grave.

"Can you sense her?" Luke asked, crouching next to her, thinking of her words on Endor – but then again, she'd told him, later, while Han was out searching for the Alderaanians, that she'd only said that to make him feel better.

Leia shook her head.

She dipped her index finger into the calligraphy, tracing the word _Amidala_. She paused, looking up at the trees, and felt a chill at her spine – and thought, for a moment, she saw something glittery and blue near a stream that ran behind the trees. She focused, and there was nothing there, but she drew her hand back, and looked over her shoulder, warily.

Luke stood up abruptly, and she wondered if he'd sensed something, too.

Leia stayed low to the ground for a moment, listening to Luke vaguely.

"Jobal told me he came here, and knelt by her grave," he said.

"I was under the impression he was already Vader when she was killed," Leia said quietly.

"That's the complexity of it all, Leia, you know that," Luke said, hesitant as he tried to be sensitive. He tilted his head. "Haven't you ever asked Bail what her last words were?"

Leia blinked to herself.

 _No_ , she thought, tracing the word again – _Amidala_. She'd hardly asked her father anything, beyond the original conversation – she was taking things in small doses, degrees at a time; it was like talking about Alderaan – it got easier, perhaps, but she also couldn't always bear to just stew in it.

"Have you?" she asked finally.

Luke nodded.

"She said there was still good in him," he said. "She said it to Ben. He told Bail. I think its part of why they thought I could save him, one day."

Leia didn't say anything for a long time. She stood after a moment, and looked down thoughtfully at the stone marker.

"I could almost understand why he'd turn, if he _lost_ the love of his life," she said, almost too quietly for Luke to hear – and she was thinking of her experience with the Force last year, the strong sense of desperation she'd felt, the question, left unanswered, of what lengths she'd go to if she had the chance to save Alderaan – but that didn't explain Anakin Skywalker's turn; his actions had _killed_ the love of his life.

She turned to Pooja.

"Do you know why he turned?" she asked, and then winced at the startled look on the other woman's face. "Pooja – forgive me; never mind. You have no obligation to answer that," she said quickly, very swiftly returning to her political demeanor.

"It's okay," Pooja said. She waved her hand around. "I can't – I've already explained to Luke, I have a hard time fathoming the – Vader thing, so I can talk about it all right," she explained. "I thought he was dead, until…Bail told us everything," she said. She lifted her shoulders. "I don't know," she said honestly. "I don't know anything about it," she promised. "All I can say, Leia, is that…the last memory I have of _Anakin_? Ryoo was teaching him how to braid my hair."

Leia blinked, and shivered a little.

Pooja swallowed hard at the pale look on Leia's face.

"That must have been…two months, before," she trailed off. "I'm sorry," she said suddenly. "You're upset. It must be miserable to hear me humanize him, but," she faltered, "I only knew the human."

Leia swallowed hard.

"I suppose Luke and I are here because of the human," she said quietly.

She shrugged a little.

Shmi's diary, Pooja's memories – it all humanized him. It didn't necessarily make him any less of a monster – the suit itself made it easy to view him as a psychopathic machine, but Leia had known plenty of flesh-and-blood monsters in her life, first among them Wilhuff Tarkin.

Leia cleared her throat.

"My middle name is Amidala," she said. "I can't remember if you knew that."

"I think I did," Pooja said, eagerly seizing on to the change of topic, earnestly even. "Although, now that you ask, I can't remember if I'm retro-fitting myself with that information," she laughed. "Bail told us, anyhow. He told us he gave it to you."

"My aunt and uncle did not do the same," Luke said, deadpan. "I guess _Luke Padmé_ would have sounded stupid and _Luke Anakin_ would have been somewhat obvious."

Leia looked at him, just as deadpan.

"Luke Anakin sounds stupid, too," she retorted.

"Well, there you go," Luke said, shrugging. "I'm just Luke."

Pooja giggled.

"It's a nice name," she said, arching a brow.

"Any idea why she would choose Luke and Leia?" Luke asked, tilting his head hopefully.

Pooja shrugged.

"No," she said. "My mother might – or Gran-Mama might," she said. "Ryoo and I thought you were going to be _one_ baby, a boy, and we named you Federico without telling Aunt Mé-Mé."

Leia started laughing. She turned to Luke.

"Federico," she teased.

Luke glared at Pooja.

"Why did you tell her that?"

"Lighten up, _Federico_ ," Leia snorted. "Wait until I tell Han."

Luke gave her an annoyed look.

"Why do you have to tell Han everything?" he griped.

Leia gave him a brightly amused look. She returned her gaze to Pooja, and inclined her head.

"Any more details you have that I can tease my brother with are extremely welcome," she said gallantly. "We missed out on years of sibling bickering."

"Oh, you should watch the twins," Pooja said seriously. "Maiah and Iver are pros." She grinned, and looked at Luke. "See, we're all going to warm up to each other; it's easy," she said, no doubt referring to some private conversation they had already had.

She turned to Leia.

"My grandmother is, of course, all in a tizzy every other second concerning how we're going to entertain you," she said, "or how we're going to schedule things, and I'm trying to get her to just let things unfold," she said.

Leia nodded.

"I've found there's very little merit in trying to control things too closely, when it comes to this sort of thing," she sighed. She furrowed her brow jokingly. "We could hold a press conference and all yell at my father," she suggested. "If that would assist in melting any ice."

"Oh – haha, well, perhaps for Gran-Papa," Pooja said breezily, and Leia noted that piece of information surreptitiously – then, Ruwee Naberrie was on poor terms with Bail, and Leia was sure it would not be difficult to discern why, if she sat down and thought about it.

 _Easy,_ she thought warily – _we had living maternal relatives, and my father and Ben Kenobi took us away._

"Darred, Sola's husband," Pooja said – they were still in a stage where she clarified every member of the family, just in case, "wants to organize a hunt, in the next few days – he figures Han has probably hunted, and Whyler loves it, too, so Bail would of course be asked as well – does the Viceroy hunt?"

Leia, having taken on a wary look after the first sentence, shook her head slightly, looking extremely skeptical.

"He wants to do what?" she asked carefully.

"Hunting," Pooja repeated. "Darred's a big hunter. Most people who have property here are. Darred's good, too. He thought it'd be a good way to get the people who aren't…I guess those who _married_ into us out of the way so we," she gestured around the three of them, "can do more talking."

Leia shared a look with Luke.

"So he wants to take my husband and my father out into a field and give them rifles?" she asked slowly.

Luke laughed.

"Aw, Leia, I think we're past the point of worrying about them shooting each other!" he snickered. "C'mon, Bail and Han are pals now."

Pooja smirked.

Leia gave her a look.

"I'm not so much worried about a deliberate assault as I am worried about my father's capabilities with a weapon," she confided dryly.

"He fought in the Clone Wars, didn't he?" Pooja asked.

Leia gave her a bemused look.

"I think that would depend on how you define 'fought,' she snorted. "We're Alderaanian. When he says 'fought' – he means he shouted at someone once in a hallway and it was extremely indecorous."

Pooja laughed again.

"It's tame, really," she soothed. "Darred and Whyler won't let anyone get hurt – and it doesn't have to be to get them out of the way, anyone can go," she said, pointing to herself. "I, personally, love hunting."

Leia inclined her head – activities to occupy the days were always good. She smiled, and turned to Luke, giving him a smile to encourage him – and Luke smiled back, delighted, and naturally, relieved. Pooja, a wide smile on her face, took a step back, looking back towards the house for a moment to essentially leave them alone with Padmé's final resting place.

* * *

In lieu of having anything else to do, Han made it a point to find out where his father-in-law was and go bother him – Bail was a painfully easy target. He was easily ruffled, but trained not to react too strongly, which could often occupy Han for a long time – until someone, usually Leia, intervened for the sake of the Viceroy's sanity.

As it were, the man in question was out in the back courtyard, evidently finishing up a conversation on his portable comlink. Han caught a glimpse of what he thought was Rouge's tiny blue figure before it vanished, and he cleared his throat.

"You're workin', too?" he asked dryly, folding his arms.

"Checking in with Rouge," Bail said. "It seems she's driving Miss Verlaine mad."

Han feigned an overdramatic look of shock, and Bail rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath.

"It was only a short conversation."

"Yeah, yeah, you and Leia both," Han said, arching a brow. "Neither of you think it's rude to set up in someone else's house and work?" he asked, and then glanced behind him at the hulking mass of Varykino. "Er, mansion," he corrected.

Bail looked incredibly affronted.

"It's a matter of balance – neither of us have been locked away – Han," he broke off, annoyed. "I can't possibly be finding myself on the lecturing end of a conversation about polite behavior with _you_."

Han blinked at him lazily.

"I have manners," he said vaguely. "Use 'em when it's advantageous."

"I noticed," Bail said, narrowing his eyes. "You've been shockingly polite to the Naberries. I don't recall receiving the same _instant_ respect," he said moodily.

Han shrugged, and smirked.

"Ah, don't get all sulky on me, Dad," he drawled. "I don't like 'em better than you," he snorted.

Bail rolled his eyes.

"Will you promise to continue the mild behavior?" he demanded.

"Sure," Han said simply, "as long as no one fucks with Leia."

Bail turned a harassed look on him, shaking his head. Han shrugged blithely, sticking to his honest statement.

"I don't think you have to worry about anyone here deliberately upsetting Leia," he said logically. "Although I admit I can sometimes be unaware of what is going to bother her," he added under his breath, and then he looked at Han bluntly. "How is she? Was she as okay with all of this as she stated she was?"

Han shrugged.

"Yeah, I think so," he said. "She's been reading this diary we have, of Shmi Skywalker's," he explained, "so she's been in the right mindset." Han shrugged again. "I figure she really is interested in this Padmé woman," he added frankly.

"Oh, well, she was a very interesting woman," Bail said.

"Well, you gotta be, if you're the Queen of a planet when you were fourteen," Han said. He tilted his head at Bail smugly. "Want to know what I was doing when I was fourteen?" he asked.

"No," Bail said darkly, giving him a warning look.

Han laughed, and Bail reached up to rub his jaw, adjusting the heavy robes he was wearing – he grimaced in the sun; should have brought something lighter, this weather was hotter than he expected. He cleared his throat.

"My sister asked me to pass on an additional apology to you," he said, turning to give Han a sharp look. " _Why_?" he demanded.

Han looked mildly taken aback.

"She asked you to apologize for her but didn't tell you why?"

"She said she had no intention of repeating it," Bail said, a lilt in his voice mimicking his sister just slightly – and Han looked amused. "She seemed very upset though, as if the issue was not resolved before you and Leia departed Coruscant."

Han snorted a little derisively – the issue was _not_ resolved, but that had nothing to do with Rouge and every single thing to do with Leia. He shook his head easily, blowing it off.

"She already said she was sorry," he said flatly.

Bail gave him a piercing look.

"What did she say?" he asked.

Han looked annoyed.

"Kriff, Bail, you nosy bastard," he said, a little on edge, but mostly good-naturedly. "She pretty much told Leia our kids were gonna be little demons," he said pointedly. "Which, y'know, ain't the _best_ comment to make to Leia," he added sourly.

Bail sighed, running his palm over his mouth heavily – unfortunately, it sounded like something his sister would say, even if she wasn't connecting it properly. He had wondered if Leia – well, he had, of late, wondered what Leia's intentions were regarding family at all. The Media had certainly flared up with questions lately, bored as they were with peaceful politics.

Neither Han, nor Leia, had made a single comment for or against it – about it at all; not to the Media, and not in Bail's presence.

"Can we move on now?" Han asked curtly. "You know how your sister is," he said stiffly. "It really pissed Leia off, _that's_ why she's so torn up. Doesn't matter about me."

"Leia jumped down her throat?" Bail asked quietly.

Han laughed a little.

"Oh, yeah," he confirmed.

Bail sighed, folding his arms. He dwelled on the comment for only a moment, and then blinked, and turned a reproachful look on Han.

"Did you call me a bastard?" he demanded.

"You've called the Viceroy of Alderaan a bastard, Han?"

Joining them in the courtyard, Sola Naberrie spoke from behind them, her brows raised in amusement.

"It's a pet name," Han said, deadpan. He reached over and placed his palm on Bail's head, patronizing him. "He loves it."

Bail took a dignified step away from Han.

"I most certainly do not," he retorted.

Han looked at Sola innocently, and shrugged.

"He's shy," he joked.

Sola laughed.

"Your interactions are certainly rather interesting to watch," she noted, amused. "Bail, I think my father would like a shot at calling you a bastard," she said matter-of-factly.

Bail grimaced.

"Yes, I do get that impression," he agreed.

Sola merely smiled.

"My mother set some of the cooks to start on lunch," she said. "It's not an event – just help yourselves when it's ready," she said.

"Hey, you know where Leia is?" Han asked. He ran his hand through his hair with a frown. "She wasn't in that office she was usin', with Pooja."

"Ah, yes," Sola said mildly. "Pooja took her to see Padmé's grave," she explained. "That would be – past this courtyard, down a path, near the Hydenock trees by the stream."

Han looked dubious. He wondered if Leia had actually been ready for that, or if she'd resisted seeming rude when Pooja asked her to go. He said nothing, though – he figured he'd find out later.

"Luke is down there, too," Sola said. "He headed down after he had breakfast with my father – the rest of us don't bite, though," she said smoothly. "Well," she amended. "Iver bites, but Ryoo and Whyler are really trying to break him of the habit."

Han laughed.

"Leia used to do that," Bail said, almost gloomily.

Han turned to him gleefully.

"What?" he demanded.

Bail nodded, sharing a pained look with Sola.

"When she was a toddler and she was angry," he pointed to his teeth, "it was her first line of protest."

"How did you get her to stop?" Sola asked, interested.

"I didn't," Bail said. "She bit my wife once, and Breha took her into a room privately, and spoke with her, and Leia never did it again."

Han laughed again.

"She's bitten me," he said. "Different context."

" _Han_ ," snapped Bail.

Sola gave Bail a mildly amused look, and shook her head at Han.

"You and Whyler really are similar," she said, lifting a brow wryly.

"So-So."

Sola turned at the sound of the nickname, and leaned back, glancing into the house.

"I'm out here, Darred," she called.

"You seen General Solo?"

"No," Sola answered. "But I've seen Han, which is what I believe he's asked us to call him."

Sola's husband came out to the courtyard – followed closely by Whyler, who was smirking at the jest while Darred merely rolled his eyes and glared mildly at his wife. Sola gestured dramatically at Han, as if she had just produced him.

"Viceroy," Darred said.

" _Bail_ ," he automatically corrected.

"It takes some getting used to," Darred said mildly. "I called Leia _Princess_ twice this morning and I think it made her very uncomfortable," he said frankly.

"Of course it would," Sola said smoothly. "She doesn't want to feel like she's an official guest who's _imposing_ on us," she said, giving her husband a patiently exasperated look. "You're her _uncle_ ," she pointed out.

Darred shook his head, grinning.

"You put it that way, and it sounds simple, but she scares me," he joked. "I saw leaked footage from one of the Rebel scuffles with the Empire back in two ABY, and I saw her fire a bowcaster damn near as big as her with _precision_ ," he related. "I'm not gonna get on her bad side."

Han snorted.

"I remember that," he muttered.

"Didn't she get hurt in that battle?" Darred asked, interested. "There were rumors she'd been killed, until she was spotted again on Ord Mantell."

Han only nodded vaguely.

"Yeah, she got hurt," he said, without elaborating – for the sake of Bail, mostly, though also because it wasn't an injury he particularly liked to relive. He pulled up his mental catalogue immediately – blaster bolt scar, inside of her thigh, a wound she'd survived probably only because Chewie had been able to fashion a tourniquet out of Han's belt.

"She certainly had a dangerous youth," Darred said, whistling.

Han noticed Bail looked a little disheartened, and cleared his throat, searching for another subject. Whyler seemed to pick it up immediately.

"She's probably a hell of a shot on a hunt, then," he said. "Does Leia hunt, Solo?" he asked – Whyler called almost everyone by their surname, except his wife.

"Uhh," Han started, shrugging. "She's Alderaanian," he said vaguely. He tilted his head. "I've never seen her go after anything other than a Stormtrooper," he said dryly.

Sola laughed.

"Whyler means edible game," she said. "Not quite as high stakes – Darred never comes up to Varykino without going out to hunt at least once," she said, resting her hand on her husband's elbow. She tilted her head at him. "I assume that is where this is going…?"

Darred cleared his throat, folding his arms briskly and nodding.

"Yeah, Whyler and I figured we'd see who else was interested," he said, tilting his head at his son-in-law. "Pooja goes with us most times, but I got the idea that maybe some of us might, uh, get out of the way," he said pointedly. He jerked his chin at Sola. "While the by-blood Naberries talk," he said wryly. He gestured between himself, Whyler, and Han – "We just married in."

"Who would have thought I'd end up in Darth Vader's family," Whyler snorted.

Sola gave him a sharp look.

"You ought to respect Luke's clarification of the issue and refer to him as Anakin Skywalker," she said.

Whyler gave his mother-in-law a placating look and inclined his head, biting his tongue.

"And you, Bail," Darred said, grinning in amusement, "you're not blood, and you didn't marry in, but there's a spot on the hunt for people Ruwee _thought_ knocked up his daughter."

Han snorted at Bail's expense, while the Viceroy flushed and bowed his head, muttering.

"Well, I don't know if – to answer you, hunting was not – I did not hunt," he stammered, finally getting it out. "Although, Han – it wasn't uncommon on Alderaan. My sisters enjoyed it."

"Yeah, I bet Rouge was a bloodhound," Han drawled under his breath. He turned to Darred and Whyler and slapped Bail on the back. "He'll go," he answered for him, smirking. "Yeah, sounds like a good time."

"Have _you_ been hunting before, Han?" Sola asked him pointedly.

Han shrugged.

"Nah, but I can shoot straight," he said, unconcerned.

"We'll arrange for it, then," Darred said. "There's plenty of gear to be passed around – Ruwee has a damn impressive rifle collection," he added. "In fact, he usually goes – well, we'll see how it turns out," he said, sharing a look with Sola.

He'd mentioned it to her to see if she thought it was a good idea, and she had, but had cautioned that they might not make it too exclusive, in that it was abundantly clear that Darred was trying to force Luke and Leia to be left alone with Sola, Jobal, Ruwee, Pooja, and Ryoo – and he wasn't; he just thought it might be nice if those involved in the core issue here had a chance to talk through their own pressing questions without others also wanting clarification and asking questions.

Darred and Whyler had been a part of the Naberrie family for a significant time – Darred himself remembered Anakin well, and had always sensed his late sister-in-law had a thing for him – but there was something to be said for too many people being overwhelming, and much of his curiosities could be settled in a second-hand conversation with his wife later on.

"I just have to see what we'll do about the kids," Whyler said. "Indy can go with us, but the twins are too little. Kind of defeats the purpose of adults getting to talk if there are five-year-olds interrupting to tell you about some dirt they just ate," he said, deadpan.

"Indy can go on a hunt?" Bail asked warily.

Whyler waved his hand breezily.

"Easy, he's been hunting since he was seven," he said.

Bail looked startled, and Han gave him a look.

"You let Leia get on a flying animal when she was five," he pointed out.

Bail held up his hands, compressing his lips as if to imply he had nothing more to say. Whyler grinned, and Sola just shrugged.

"The twins will nap at some point," she said airily. "If they're really acting up, Mami can send them over to the Jemabies. Palo's wife loves when the kids visit." Sola scrunched her nose in amusement and looked at Han and Bail. "Palo was actually my sister's first boyfriend."

Bail just lifted a brow mildly.

Whyler shrugged.

"There's no formality to any of this, it's just an idea," he said, turning, a little distractedly, as one of his kids darted out of the mansion and past all of them. " _Oy_! Iver, where are you shoes?" he demanded.

The boy turned, dragging his bare feet in the grass.

"Luke Skywalker didn't wear shoes outside. I saw him! I saw him _not wear shoes._ "

Whyler gave him a matter-of-fact look.

"Well, when you save the galaxy from ultimate peril and Imperial slavery you can walk around barefoot, how's that, buddy?" he retorted.

Iver shrieked and threw himself onto his back, staring morosely up at the sky.

"But _what_ if the _galaxy_ is always _freeeeeeee_ now!" he wailed. "It's not fair, it's not _fair_!" he moaned.

Whyler rolled his eyes, and ignored him.

"Look, Iver," Sola said brightly. "Han Solo is wearing shoes."

"HAN SOLO IS NOT A JEDI," shouted Iver seriously.

Sola snorted.

"You win some, you lose some," she said blithely.

"Aww, what's going on?" Pooja appeared around the courtyard hedges, catching sight of her nephew on the grass. "Iver! Whatsa matter, cutie?"

"Dad hates me," Iver whined, scrambling up and dashing over to her.

Han saw Leia and Luke close on Pooja's heels, and Leia looked over her shoulder, catching his eye with a small smile.

"You," Whyler said loudly, pointing at Luke, "are making it impossible for me to parent my kids."

Luke looked startled, and Iver leapt around Pooja, pointing triumphantly at Luke's feet.

" _See_?" he insisted. "No _shoes_!"

Luke edged away, looking extremely guilty. Han shot him a smug look, delighted by the whole spectacle, and Pooja swept up Iver in a business-like move, hoisting him onto her shoulders easily.

"Your dad doesn't hate you," she said cheerfully. "What a silly thing to say; let's go put some shoes on," she said, trotting away with him towards the house.

Iver held on to her neck loosely, and Pooja winked at Whyler, shrugging, as she whisked the five-year-old inside. Whyler gave Luke a withering look as he and Leia approached the small gathering.

"Er," Luke began sheepishly. "My bad."

Whyler grinned, immediately dispensing with his faux displeasure.

"Don't sweat it," he said, nodding at Leia. "Ryoo couldn't get Maiah to drink her pear juice because _Princess Leia_ had kaffe so _Maiah_ wanted kaffe."

Leia looked appalled. Han reached out and slid an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side with a loud sigh.

"I guess you're drinkin' pear juice the rest of this trip," he said forlornly.

Leia flushed, and Sola shook her head.

"Their little brats are not your fault," she said, though she said it purely affectionately – she loved her grandchildren more than life itself, even if the twins could be painfully overdramatic on a constant basis.

"If it makes you feel better, Maiah was also scarily polite," Darred noted, amused. "Which I believe she picked up imitating you," he said to Leia.

"Lunch," Sola said, matter-of-factly. "If everyone is around now, lunch might be a welcome idea, eh?"

Whyler nodded, and he and Sola turned, starting the movement that had everyone moving back towards the house. Han hung back just a moment, his arm around Leia, and pressed his fingertips into her shoulder as he looked down at her, silently asking if the journey out to Padmé's resting place had been a positive experience.

He arched his brow, and she shrugged a little, nodding, and gave him a small, honest smile – and he was satisfied with it, and tucked his other hand into his pocket as they followed the others into the house.

* * *

Evenings, so far, had been laid back – nice, and relaxing. Again, they were often ruled by the kids, so conversation, as of yet, had not gotten very deep – unless one counted this evening's topic, which revolved around Indy Vex's fascination with the details of the rescue of the Alderaanians.

"And they really think it was a white hole, a _real_ one?" he asked, his eyes constantly flickering from Han, to Bail, to Leia, to Luke – and occasionally to his parents, as if to check and see if he was being appropriate.

"That was the official finding," Leia said slowly. "Or rather, it is what we filed it as most likely explained by, though I suppose officially it was actually classified as an unexplained phenomenon – pursuant to the heretofore unknown effects of planetary core detonation."

"Leia," Luke said, incredulous. "He's a kid."

"No, no, I understand her," Indy said quickly, looking at Luke earnestly. "I'm smart. I'm really smart."

Luke looked appalled.

"Oh, I didn't mean – that's not what I – " he faltered, and Han laughed at his discomfort.

"Did it feel like real hyperspace?" Indy asked Bail. "Or like sub-space travel? Did you know where you were?"

"It felt like suspended animation," Bail said slowly, a little dryly, as he reflected. "We knew we weren't really _going_ anywhere. The days ticked by, though."

"But you were only there a year, by your ship's clock," Indy said.

Bail nodded.

"So, how old do you think you are?" Indy asked.

"Indy, that's rude," Ryoo said, though Han, Leia, and Luke laughed – Leia turned to her father expectantly –

"Choose your answer wisely, Father, or we'll call you vain," she teased.

"Well," he stammered gruffly. "Well," he said again, and then retorted, "how old does Winter say _she_ is?"

Leia tilted her head.

"She only counts the year she felt pass, even though in real time - our time, I suppose, it was five," she said, "So, she says she's twenty-one."

Bail waved his hand.

"Then that's how I'll count it," he said hastily.

"Winter; that would be Winter Retrac?" Jobal asked gently.

"Yes," Leia said, turning to Jobal. "She was my foster sister. My best friend," she clarified.

Ruwee spoke – which was rare, for him. He looked down over a pair of spectacles not at Leia, but at Bail.

"Sheltay Retrac's baby?" he asked mildly.

Bail nodded.

"Orphaned, when Sheltay and her husband were fighting slavers," he said, with a sad smile.

"You knew Winter's mother?" Leia asked Ruwee.

"Padmé did," he said, still in his cautious, level voice. "Considered her a close friend, I believe."

"Yes," Bail agreed. He hesitated, and then he turned to Jobal. "In fact – Sheltay took care of Leia, for the first few days of her life," he said.

Jobal smiled.

"While you were here," Ruwee said, steady. "Informing us Padmé had died pregnant."

Jobal cleared her throat.

"While you were here speaking with us," she amended, and then gave her husband a warning look. "Ru."

"I'm merely clarifying a fact," he said, so neutral that it was pointed in its careful simplicity.

Jobal sighed, and turned back to the guests, a hesitant look on her face – had the evening been ruined? As usual, it was one of the children who blithely – so unaware of some of the more complex tensions – distracted the conversation; Indy got up, and went to sit at Whyler's feet, leaning back, and crossing his legs.

"You're gonna come hunting with us, right?" he asked, his eyes on Han.

Han nodded.

"Reckon so."

"Then can I see your blaster?" he asked eagerly. "I've only fired the hunting rifles. If we're out in a field, can I fire it at a tree?"

Ryoo gave him an annoyed look.

"Indy," she said, exasperated. "Han's blaster is not a toy."

"Nah, it's not a toy," Han agreed, "but, I learned to aim one when I was 'bout your age," he said, shrugging. "You got to clear that with your old man, though," he said, and swiftly deferred to Whyler – he wasn't about to promise a kid his gun and then make the parents look like the ogres when they reneged.

Indy swiveled to look at Whyler, and Whyler held up his hands innocently.

"Mami's choice," he said.

Ryoo rolled her eyes, and waved her hand. Indy made his hand into a fist and punched it into the air – and then went in for what he hoped was his next victory.

"And if Master Skywalker goes, can I see the – "

"No."

It was Ruwee who spoke again, mild, but firm.

"A lightsaber is sacred," he said simply. "Indy, you're not to play with or handle Master Skywalker's lightsaber. That is final," he said.

Indy frowned, and Luke shifted uncomfortably. He held his finger up after a moment, wincing.

"Do I…really have to be called Master Skywalker?" he asked hesitantly – it made him feel old, and unapproachable, and these little kids were his family. He didn't want to disrespect Ryoo, but the formality of the title, spoken in a child's voice, made him anxious.

Leia turned to him mildly.

"They could call you Federico," she said, deadpan.

Luke glared at her, and Ryoo's face lit up as she sat forward.

"Oh, I'd forgotten about that!" she laughed. "Pooja told you?"

Leia nodded, smirking, and Ryoo looked out of the room for a moment – her sister had gone to get the twins in their pajamas; she often had an easier job of it since, like any wild little children, Maiah and Iver behaved well for anyone who was _not_ their mother or father.

"What?" Jobal asked, taken aback. "What's this about?"

"The girls," Sola said, rolling her eyes. "They used to take turns picking names for Padmé's baby. The last thing they settled on was that it would be a boy and they'd name it Federico," she waved her hand – "Ryoo, how old were you?"

"Six or seven," she answered, grinning at Luke.

Han laughed the loudest, already immortalizing it as a new nickname.

"Didn't you pick any names for _Leia_?" Luke demanded.

Ryoo tilted her head thoughtfully.

"I'd have to ask Pooja," she said. "Aunt Mé-Mé was completely convinced you were a boy," she said.

Leia sighed, raising her eyes in mock defeat.

"I see; he was the planned one. I was the accident."

"The entire pregnancy was an accident," Ruwee Naberrie remarked casually.

Sola gave him a look.

"This conversation is what we call _facetious_ , Papa," she said, arching a brow, "and I don't think you meant to sound as if we don't want Luke and Leia here," she called out shortly.

"Ruwee," Jobal remarked, "why don't you go see about that hot cocoa I called down to the kitchen for?"

Ruwee did not argue with his wife, though he seemed contrite, and he turned apologetic nods on both Luke, and Leia – no, he hadn't meant to seem dismissive of them at all, but sometimes, casual conversation could feel like salt in unhealed wounds _– it's not funny, it's not a joke, my little girl died because of all of this darkness –_

He departed the room, and Sola rubbed her forehead.

"Well, can I ask if you know where our names do come from?" Luke ventured, turning more towards Sola and Jobal. "Bail told us they were given to us by her."

Both women, however, looked to be at a loss.

"She liked _simple_ names," Pooja said. "Things that were straightforward in any society, if that makes sense."

"That sounds like her," Jobal agreed. "Both of your names translate well to most languages."

Leia tilted her head thoughtfully.

"Like a politician," she murmured.

"Pardon?" Jobal asked kindly.

"I was merely thinking," Leia said, louder, "that choosing names that way is – politically intelligent," she explained. "Difficult names create barriers, if you can believe it."

"It's not surprising," Sola said, "though, yes, that sounds like Padmé – obviously, you've been told she was outstandingly politically savvy."

Luke nodded earnestly.

"An original founder of the Rebel Alliance," he recited proudly.

"Well," Jobal said, a little sadly, "we had no idea what it would become, back then, when she worried for Senatorial integrity under Sheev."

Han made a face.

" _Sheev_ ," he muttered. "Not a very intimidating name."

Leia elbowed him, and he glared at her – Bail, however, laughed.

"You aren't the first person to underestimate Sheev Palpatine," he said dryly.

"Certainly not," Jobal lamented.

The conversation fell quiet, and the silence was broken mere moments later by a collision of events – Pooja, returning with the now pajama-clad little twins, and Ruwee, entering with a tray of hot cocoa, and a servant behind him carrying fixings for it – sweet cream, mint syrup, honey, and fluffy candy.

Ryoo and Whyler both sat up, alarmed, and Bail, having once been a father to a small child, knew immediately what their distress was.

"Pooja, don't let them see the – " Ryoo started.

"Hot cocoa!" crooned Maiah, her face lighting up. She flung her arms around Iver and grabbed his face, making him look. "Look, look, Ivy! Sweets!"

Whyler gave Pooja a menacing glare.

"You said you would put them to bed, Sis," he accused darkly.

"They wanted to say goodnight to everyone," Pooja said, her eyes wide. "I didn't know – Gran-Papa, your timing is hideous!" she accused, stomping her foot for emphasis.

Ruwee blinked at her owlishly, and then set down the tray quietly, and held up his hands.

"I just do what my wife tells me," he retorted, gesturing as servant behind him set her tray invitingly on the table, and departed without a word.

"A wholesome way to live your life," Sola remarked, looking over at Leia, "do you agree?" she asked wryly.

Leia nodded, and turned to give Han a pointed look. He gave her an innocent look right back.

The twins, realizing their parents were about to make them go back to their rooms, ducked away from Pooja and ran over to Sola and Jobal respectively, attaching themselves to the older women's legs.

"Gran-Mama, please - !"

"Graaaan-Jooooooooeeyyyyyyy please – "

Ryoo rolled her eyes and shared a defeated look with her husband. He sighed, and shook his head.

"Okay – listen, Maiah, Iver: you two can share _one_ cup of hot cocoa," he said. "Then it is bedtime – _immediately_."

Iver let go of Jobal, and saluted Whyler; Maiah let go of Sola and squealed, bouncing over to the tray.

"That means you have to agree on what you want in your cocoa," Ryoo added.

Maiah whirled around on her heels, her eyes searching – until she found Leia, sitting near Han on a sofa. She bounced up and down eagerly, her face earnest.

"What do _you_ put in yours?" she asked breathlessly.

Iver noticed what was going on, and stood behind his sister, gesturing frantically at Leia, silently trying to point out what he wanted.

Amused, and a little overwhelmed Leia tried to watch him.

"I, ah," Leia started. "Well, I like – the cocoa," she began, stepping on Han's toe when he laughed at her, and tried to hide it in a cough. "And – hmm, the – honey," she started, and Iver gave her a horrified look – "No!" She corrected hastily. "The…sweet cream?" Iver nodded, gesturing to the next ingredient, "and the fluffy candy."

Maiah blinked at her, and then, in a very slow, calculated swivel, she turned around to glare at Iver.

"That's _Iver's_ favorite," she hissed. She glared at him, and he stuck his tongue out at her gleefully.

Maiah turned back to Leia and glared at her as if she'd been betrayed. Leia gave her an apologetic look. She hesitated, and then she tried to make amends –

"Well, alright, my _real_ favorite is only the plain cocoa," she confided.

Maiah opened her eyes wide.

"Me too!" she agreed immediately.

Ryoo gave her daughter a look behind her back – lying through her teeth; Maiah _loved_ honey in her hot cocoa.

"You let Iver try to trick me," Maiah accused, putting her hands on her hips.

"I'm sorry," Leia apologized. "That wasn't fair, was it?" she went on – she'd been trying not to cause trouble with the twins' parents, and trying not to hurt Iver's feelings as well, by ignoring his show – she tilted her head. "Can I make it up to you?" she asked.

Maiah nodded expectantly.

"You can help me have my hot cocoa," Leia suggested.

Maiah looked as if she'd drop dead of excitement, and Leia flushed, feeling everyone watching her interact – Iver's mouth dropped open.

"But Dad said we had to _share_ , May!" he whined. "I can't have my _own_!"

"I like cream and candy in mine," Luke said. He shrugged. "You can share mine."

Just like that, the twins' entire world seemed to be at peace, and Han was amazed – and a little amused – to see how something as simple as getting to share hot cocoa with a couple of grownups could blow their minds. Granted, Luke and Leia were larger than life figures to the little ones, but it was still an interesting thing – kids were so…they were _something_.

"Crisis averted," Whyler said dryly. "Iver, Maiah, you make sure you thank Mrs. Solo and Federico."

He said it so blithely, and so deadpan, that Luke almost didn't notice, until Han stifled another laugh – and he whipped a glare around at them all, scowling.

For a moment, everything was lost in the bustle of passing out mugs of cocoa – Han and Bail declined theirs, which prompted Indy to suddenly insist he didn't like cocoa, and had never liked cocoa, which Ryoo suspected had something to do with Han not wanting any. And Han – found himself nudged over insistently when Maiah boldly crawled up to sit with Leia.

"Maiah – what have we talked about?" Ryoo asked, exasperated. "You have to ask people if they want you to sit on them – I'm sorry, Leia, she's just very," Ryoo held out her hands, trying to find a word, "affectionate."

Maiah looked worried, and looked up at Leia.

"Is it okay?" she asked in a small voice. "If I am feck-shun-it?"

Leia felt an immediate sense of panic, as she scrambled to reassure the little girl, nodding.

"Yes, of course," she said rapidly. "You can sit – it's alright; stay there," she said, almost aggressively – she didn't want to disappoint Maiah, at all, and though she hadn't decided if she was comfortable with it, she'd rather be kind than disappoint a child.

Maiah settled into Leia's lap primly, and Leia handed her their shared mug – which she intended to surreptitiously let Maiah drink all of. Maiah seemed determined to share, perhaps so she could go tell all of her school friends that she shared a drink with _the_ Princess Leia, so Leia found herself passing the mug back and forth.

Conversation went on mildly, and Han turned his attention to Maiah with interest whenever she spoke to him.

He tickled her foot, and she yanked it away, pinning herself to Leia and giving him a moody glare. She looked up at Leia when she had her mug back, and asked her, matter-of-factly –

"Do you kiss him?"

Leia blushed, clearing her throat.

"Yes," she answered after a moment, tilting her head.

"Do you kiss him a _lot_?" Maiah asked.

"She does," Han told her - -and he received a whack in the back of his head from Bail, which he turned to scowl about.

Ryoo sighed.

"Maiah," she said again – her constant vocabulary seemed to consist of exasperatedly sighing one of her children's names.

Maiah dramatically glared at her mother.

"What?" she whined. "I like the kissing stories."

"Ohh, you know what that whine means?" Whyler asked dryly, sitting forward. "Bedtime."

He clapped his hands lightly.

"C'mon, if you belong to me, finish your cocoa, and let's go," he encouraged, and then pointed at Indy. "You, go get in the 'fresher. If you do it without arguing, you can stay up an extra hour."

Indy bolted up and was out the door in a heartbeat, and Luke raised his brows, impressed.

"Kids are really easy to bribe," Whyler said, deadpan. "My wife, on the other hand," he groused good-naturedly, "wants things like diamonds or the mortgage paid off – "

"Hush," Ryoo said.

Whyler grinned, and stood, waiting for the twins to hurry up. Han took the half-empty mug from Maiah and set it aside, reaching for her hand.

"Need help gettin' down?" he offered.

Maiah shook her head, but knelt on Leia's lap and gave her a hug, and then a kiss on the cheek.

"Night-night," she said, and then crawled over to Han to pat his head and hug him, too. "Night-night," she said.

"G'night," Han mumbled, taken aback – Maiah had already moved on to Bail, and then Luke, making her away around and kindly wishing everyone a goodnight. Iver was less of a sweetheart – he stood next to Luke and merely waved roughly at everyone, mumbling a goodnight that clearly indicated he was not happy to be taken to bed.

Whyler grinned, picked up Maiah, and steered Iver by the shoulders to the stairs – and even after they left, Leia felt like everyone was staring at her – and if perhaps not at her, definitely she and Han both. She compressed her lips, and cleared her throat, looking over at Ryoo,

"They're very sweet children," she complimented simply.

"They're overwhelming," Ryoo said, wincing.

Leia shrugged politely – she didn't know if that was true. Her own uncertainty around them, which she kept appropriately locked away and hidden, did not necessarily mean Ryoo had children that were any more or less - _whelming_ than the average human child.

"You'reboth good with them," Sola said, shrugging. "It's a relief. Not everyone is at ease around kids," she went on, and then laughed, pointing at her husband: "Darred wasn't, and we had _two_."

"Hey, I loved both of my kids," Darred said seriously. He then inclined his head, and added: "When…they were out of the nursery," he joked.

Sola crossed one leg over the other and shook her head.

"Disaster," she mouthed. "Utter disaster – he cried as much as Ryoo, when we first brought her home."

"You're just being – you're exaggerating, now," Darred huffed, glaring. His wife grinned, and winked at him, and Jobal leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm.

"What about you two?" she asked, her eyes on Han and Leia. "Are you thinking of having one of your own soon?" she asked gently.

Leia's first thought that it was fair conversation, even if she wanted to immediately shut down the question. She hesitated a brief moment, wracking her mind for an appropriate answer that was diplomatic, but implied she had no interest in discussing, yet before she could –

Despite having gotten better at thinking before he spoke, for some reason, Han said exactly what came to mind the minute Jobal's words were out of her mouth –

"Don't spook her," he said, jerking his chin at Leia's head, "she'll bite your head off."

\- and he immediately regretted it; he didn't even have to see the worried look that crossed Jobal's face, the tactful fear that she'd said something horribly wrong – and he certainly didn't need to see, out of the corner of his eye, Luke bow his head and wince.

Bail's quiet intake of breath was the last thing he heard before there was silence, and Han grit his teeth in a grimace, and for a moment, avoided looking down at Leia. When he did, she hadn't turned to look at him – she was, in fact, looking quietly at Jobal, as if she hadn't even heard him – though obviously she had, and he could tell, from the stiff line of her jaw, that she was furious.

Out loud, in a plaintive and neutral tone, she said:

"We've only been married half a year."

She was quiet for a moment, and then, she sat forward, rubbing her shoulder, and inclining her head politely around.

"I think I'll go to bed," she said – her tone was an apology, for their hosts, but Han identified the sharp edge in it that was there just for him – _and you_ better _follow me; we need to talk._

Jobal nodded, standing up to see her out of the room, and Han sat forward, looking down at his feet and rubbing his jaw. Luke shook his head.

"That was stupid," he said flatly, giving Han a wary look. He looked up at him narrowly. "What's going on?" he asked, perceptive. "There was a lot going on there."

Han held up a hand curtly.

"Forget it, kid," he said, tense.

Bail sat back without a word, his eyes following Jobal as she returned to her seat. She sighed, and placed a hand over her mouth lightly.

"I – I do apologize, Han," she said.

"He's the one who stuck his foot in his mouth," Sola said archly, in her typical dry, though not necessarily hostile, way. Darred gave her a look, and she pursed her lips, feigning a silent whistle, wondering what the hell her mother had just accidentally stepped into.

Jobal started to speak again, and stopped.

Han cleared his throat gruffly.

"S'not your fault," he said flatly – it wasn't; Sola was right – Han was the one who had made it a scene.

"You ought not to put people on the spot in that way, Jo," Ruwee said stiffly, shaking his head with a resigned look.

Ryoo sat quietly, looking at her hands - -he'd reprimanded her for the exact same thing recently, and she cringed, remembering it. Han started to get up, muttering an excuse, but Bail grabbed his elbow, giving him a warning look.

"No, you better give it a minute," he said sagely.

Han looked at him coolly, but sat back down on the edge of the sofa, running his hand over the back of his head in agitation. Bail watched him, suddenly struck with the – personalized – fear that there had been some kind of loss, recently, that he hadn't known about – and Han stared at his hands, well aware that regardless of whether he went after Leia now, or in ten minutes, it was going to be a problem.

* * *

Leia was already dressed for bed when she heard him come in. Her heart was still pounding, agitated from how betrayed she felt when he threw out that asinine comment – it seemed to confirm all her fears and doubts – clearly; he _did_ want this, and she was the _bitch_ denying him what he wanted.

She pushed her hair back, turning off the 'fresher light, listening to him slowly drag his feet in the anteroom, locking the door, shutting the curtains – and then she heard him come in to the bedroom, finally, and he stood by the door for a moment, his head lowered – he looked sorry, but she stood by the bureau just outside the 'fresher, waiting silently.

He finally came towards her, and she reached out sharply, holding him at arm's length.

"That was _vicious_ ," she hissed, the words bursting out of her as he lifted his head to meet her eyes.

He looked a little pale – maybe vicious was too strong of a word; vicious implied he actively sought to hurt her - but _what the hell else had he been doing?_ What had possessed him –

"Leia," he said warily. "I'm sorry."

She crossed her arms, turning her head away.

He flexed his shoulders uncomfortably.

"Why did you do that?" she asked in a hushed voice. "Why did you _say_ that?"

He sighed, and tilted his head up, jaw tight.

"Look, I was just – thinkin' about how you react when you see it in the Media, or _I_ try to bring it up, and I didn't want a fight – you _do_ get spooked, y'know - "

"So you shared our private arguments with a room full of people?" she demanded, her voice catching – she put a hand to her chest. "You made me look cold?"

He looked at her for a moment, and then he was suddenly angry, and his expression darkened.

"Arguments?" he demanded loudly. "What arguments? You won't even talk to me about this!"

Leia walked away tensely, leaving him staring at the bureau for a moment. He turned around to watch her, and she sat down, running a brush through her hair stiffly. He folded his arms, gritting his teeth hard to stymie his frustration for a moment.

"I asked you to drop this," Leia said, after a long silence. "I asked you to _let it go –_ I told you I need to get through this visit."

Han shook his head.

"And then you'll need to get through some summit or negotiation," he said sourly, "or a press conference about Vader – you'll need to deal with the public, instead of _this_ ," he accused. He threw one arm out. "It's starting to affect every fucking conversation we have," he pointed out angrily. "There are kids _here_ Leia, this is your _family_ ," he snapped. "It's gonna come up."

Leia put her brush down, and put her face in her hands for a moment, slipping her fingers into her hair. She got up after a moment, and stood on the opposite side of the bed, facing him. Her expression was hard, resistant, like she didn't know if she wanted to continue this, or just run out of the room.

"I don't want to fight," she decided quietly.

Han smacked his hands together, knuckles against his palm, unexpectedly.

"Then why do you keep putting this off?" he snapped. "You're building a – you're arming for a war, Leia," he muttered awkwardly.

"Well, how philosophical," she retorted sarcastically. "How eloquent – you started this," she pointed out.

"Yeah," he agreed, letting out a harsh breath. "Yeah, I was an asshole, okay?" he agreed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it." He stepped closer to the bed, and sat down, shaking his head roughly. "I like watchin' you with the kid," he said after a moment, as if it were a show of weakness to admit.

Leia looked down at the quilts for a moment. Her words caught in her throat.

"Can we just go to bed?" she asked softly.

Han looked ready to refuse; then he brought his hand up to his face, covered his eyes for a moment, and shrugged, nodding coolly.

"Yeah," he muttered, and her stomach clenched painfully – she knew she hadn't given him as much as he wanted, but she did not feel that someone else's house, far away from the place they called home, was the place to hash this out – and if it was an excuse she was making –

She'd try to stop making it; she'd try.

Han got up to change clothes while Leia pulled back the covers and got into bed, resting on her back and staring at the ceiling nervously – tense, as if she was waiting for a bomb to go off. Han took his time getting ready for bed, and when he finally turned off the lights, and crawled under the sheets with her, he lay on his side and looked at her.

She felt exposed under his gaze, and she closed her eyes. He finally reached out and touched her neck, just the back of his fingers, brushing gently along her skin.

"Why won't you talk to me?" he asked tiredly. "You always talk to me, Leia."

Her throat locked up. She – wanted to talk, sometimes, but most of the time she was absorbed in trying to hang on to the bliss they had been living in since their wedding – and it wasn't that she expected things to always, always, be flawlessly perfect, but the logical side of her knew this sort of thing was a fault line that destroyed relationships.

Leia swallowed hard, metering out the irrational panic that was tickling her throat, pricking ominously at her eyes in the form of burning tears. She automatically felt like crying when the conversation went this route, and she hadn't always identified why yet – was it him, was it her – just the topic in general? Han reached out to rub her shoulder gently, and she pulled on the edge of the pillow under her, turning to face him, taking a deep breath.

"What if," she began, her throat still constricted, "we do have a baby, and it's like Vader?"

She whispered it half into the pillow, because she felt like he – Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader – might hear her. He'd been in every room of this house, hadn't he? He'd been welcomed, and loved by the Naberries, and his shadow lurked; Leia kept expecting to see the black mask and cape around every dark corner.

Though of course, by all accounts, he wouldn't have been trussed up so, when he spent days here.

Han seemed to struggle for a moment, and to hold back a frustrated sigh – he didn't really need her to voice that fear; he knew in his gut that's what it was, he just needed her to – talk, let him reason with her, get outside of her own head. He wanted to _shake_ her – but he had such a different perspective – he couldn't fathom how _any_ child of Leia's could turn out like that, and she seemed to think it was the only thing that would happen.

"You aren't like Vader," he pointed out tersely. "Luke isn't."

Leia shrugged his hand off irritably, and Han winced, pulling back for a moment. He turned onto his back, stared at the ceiling briefly, and then rolled back over, closer, and bent his head down to kiss her shoulder, lingering there.

"Leia," he started quietly.

"I was raised by the Organas," she said edgily. "No one raised on Alderaan could turn out like – "

"Luke was raised in the same shithole Vader was," Han interrupted abruptly. "You really think you're gonna raise a kid that turns out like Vader? You and me?"

He meant to sound reassuring, but she shifted away, and Leia wanted to scream at him not to write off her fears like that –

"Shmi Skywaker was a good woman," Leia snarled, starting to turn away – Han reached out and threw and arm over her lightly, holding her there – he looked at her intently, and Leia closed her eyes, blocking his gaze - there was nothing more terrifying than knowing Shmi Skywalker had done everything right, as a mother, had been so, so kind, and yet –

"Luke and I grew up never knowing the kind of power we had," Leia said tightly. "By the time we learned of it, we'd already had a lifetime solidifying our moral beliefs – and it seems Anakin Skywalker grew up constantly berated with the threat of the Dark Side. Tempted, every day."

She sighed shakily.

"The Force is dangerous, in the formative years," she said hoarsely. "That's what it feels like. To me."

"So, what?" Han pressed. "We have kids, and don't tell 'em until they're older?"

Leia shook her head violently.

"Keep secrets? The way Luke and I had our entire identities hidden from us?" she shivered. "It's wrong," she asserted, thinking of how – devastating it was for her to discover the truth, how uncomfortable and awkward it was now, to try and repair a history of lies and sub truths and create a meaningful relationship with the Naberries in spite of it.

"Yeah, it is," Han agreed bluntly. He tangled his fingers in her hair. "I thought you accepted all this," he pushed. "You told me it was all part of who you are."

Leia opened her eyes and gave him a dull look.

"That does not mean I wish it on anyone else – anyone I would be responsible for burdening with it," she said curtly. "It's not a good idea."

Han felt a rush of frustration again, an ache in his chest.

"What about me?" he asked, rising up a little. He pointed to himself. "You wouldn't be the only one involved," he pointed out, and she sensed an underlying current of insecurity in his words. "Hell, it looks like there's actually only _one_ bad guy in the bloodline – "

Leia turned her head away, blinking.

"It's not about you."

"It involves _me_ ," he insisted. "We're married, Leia," he snapped. "I'm involved in the rest of our future. You can't just decide this without me! I want to talk about this - "

She sat up and looked at him coldly. Her head was throbbing – she didn't want to fight, all she could think about was how she didn't want to _fight,_ and they were fighting anyway, and she didn't seem to be able to put into words, yet, everything that was suffocating her about this – it wasn't just Vader, it wasn't just the Force –

"So that's it, is it?" she asked nastily, her eyes flashing. "We're married, and now that's what you think I should do – stay home, have your kids, and _fuck_ what I want. It doesn't matter how I feel. You don't care."

Han leaned back, startled by her acidity and jolted, jolted by the – completely unfounded accusation, something totally based in the desire to piss him off. He swallowed hard, his face falling into an expression so cold, she wanted to take it all back.

He grit his teeth – when had anything he had ever done, ever indicated that he didn't _care_ how she felt? Everything in him cared how she felt, and worried, constantly, about what she wanted, and stressed that he wouldn't be able to give it to her, that he'd fall short, and he looked at her now like he had looked at her so many other times in their history, when she'd managed to really say something –

" _That_ ," he said hoarsely, echoing her earlier words, "was vicious."

He turned onto his back, and laid down, staring at the ceiling. Leia drew her knees up to her chest, hugging them, and rested her forehead on them, scrambling for something to say – but she felt stuck, and ambushed; she hadn't been in the right mindset to get into this, and he'd shoved her headfirst into the issue anyway.

Han shifted beside her, and when she lifted her head, he was getting up, snatching his pillow off the bed. He didn't say a word to her, just took one of the extra quilts off of the bed, slung it over his shoulder, and left the bedroom, leaving the door barely open behind him.

Leia stared after him for a long time – and she laid down, stiffly, in the middle of the empty bed, an unidentifiable emotion coursing through her; she thought it must be something unique to a woman whose husband had just gone to sleep on the couch – and Leia buried her face in a pillow, catching her breath; in all the time they'd lived together, married or not, Han had never slept on the couch.

* * *

 _as my beta said - "yikes."_

 _-alexandra_

 _*the quotation I used for Padme's grave is from a book of Eastern Proverbs._


	6. Five

_a/n: good chance i spoiled at least half of this in snippets_

* * *

 ** _Five_**

* * *

Leia had her hair pulled back into a loose, simple ponytail, and she was staring down at a plate of half-eaten breakfast as she innhaled the scent of kaffe, and poked at toast and eggs with a fork. She liked the little breakfast alcove on this patio – she was quickly falling in love with the whole Naberrie estate, from an aesthetic standpoint alone. She hoped they didn't think she was rude for eating by herself this morning, but she – didn't feel like socializing, just yet.

She had briefly entertained the idea that, when she woke, Han would be out there waiting, and they would forget everything that had happened last night - but that was not how they worked, and it never had been how they worked, so when she found the couch empty and the quilt he'd used on the floor she was disheartened, but unsurprised.

She had opened the curtains and dwelled, for a moment – she hadn't heard him come in and put clothes on; was he wandering around in pajamas, or had she been asleep that soundly? It seemed almost impossible, given how upset they had both been, that she could sleep well – but her brain could work in mysterious ways.

It did her a favor, sometimes; it shut down.

She fretted over the idea of wandering down to the sun rooms, where breakfast was usually served, and running into him; she didn't want the first time she faced him after a fight to be in a place surrounded by people – she didn't think he wanted that, either. Leia felt her presence in the merry breakfast room downstairs might make things subdued, or awkward – and as she'd debated about whether or not to make an appearance, one of the Naberrie's day servants had materialized and asked if she wanted breakfast brought up to her, which Leia thought was – frighteningly good timing and, though she did so a little guiltily, agreed that she did.

She was barely hungry, though, and picked at the food she'd been so graciously brought, chasing toast around with a fork, occasionally poking the prongs of the utensil into a mass of jam and licking it off listlessly.

"Leia?" she lifted her head a little at the sound of her father's voice, turning slightly. He was standing just inside the open glass doors, apparently having come looking for her.

Leia leaned back a little to make sure the bedroom door was shut – she was extremely private about her bedroom, even if there was nothing necessarily incriminating or embarrassing in it – and smiled at him tiredly. He took that for what it was; an invitation to come out and visit with her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, without preamble.

Leia took a deep breath and rubbed her jaw. She leaned her cheek on her knuckles and nodded, blinking a bit in the sun.

"There's always a lot going on in that dining room," she murmured neutrally – and it was a fact, merely one that hadn't bothered her particularly until this morning.

Her father said nothing for a moment, and sat down in the spare chair opposite her.

"And you're fighting with Han," he noted intuitively.

Leia put down her fork and looked away from him, setting her jaw.

"What makes you say that?" she asked tersely – _had_ Han been down there, running his mouth again?

"I've been married, Leia," Bail said quietly.

He understood more than she thought, sometimes; he'd noted tension flaring up between them more than once, in the few days they'd been here. Nothing egregious, just – he'd just noticed, precisely because he had been there.

"I'm not fighting with him."

"You've had a fight, then," Bail allowed, amending his statement.

She shook her head stubbornly, but did not deny it verbally.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

Her father sighed.

"I can tell you're upset, Lelila," he began.

She held up one hand.

"This is not your business," she said.

She wasn't overly harsh, or rude, but the last thing she wanted to do was talk about it with her father – she didn't want to bitch about Han to him; she didn't think it was fair. She did what she could to preserve the good will between the two of them, and her father was protective.

Bail looked at her earnestly, and she shook her head, waving her hand vaguely.

"It's not a fight," she lied. "We just – " she started, and her mouth moved soundlessly, and she put her elbows on the table.

She looked down at her toast for a moment, and then, to her horror, tears started spilling down her cheeks. She dipped her head lower, and heard her father get up, and quickly move around to stand behind her, gripping her shoulders comfortingly.

Leia bit her lip, swearing under her breath softly – it hadn't been that bad; she and Han had plenty of nasty spats in the past, and they'd always gotten over them. She didn't think – well, they _would_ get over this – at least, she'd been telling herself that, but now it hung over her head threateningly, the conflict clawed at her; perhaps it was something that started out not seeming that bad, just a point of contention, but somewhere down the line, her marriage would fall apart before she had known what happened, and how to save it.

She held her knuckles against her eyes lightly, breathing in and out steadily to keep her tears to a minimum, and she heard her father sigh sympathetically.

"The first year of marriage is the hardest, Leia," he said quietly. "I don't know why."

He bent forward and kissed the back of her head, and after one more squeeze of her shoulders, he returned to sit across from her. She looked up at him, pushing her hair back a little and resting her palm on her forehead, and he lifted his shoulders, trying to put into words his own thoughts on the subject.

"Maybe it's because you think it's all perfect and you've got it in the bag," he said. "You think, by the time you've got married, you worked out the kinks. The disagreements blindside you and you can get fatalistic and start thinking like every little spat is the end."

He paused, leaning forward on the table.

"I think you tend to get into this mindset that fighting after you've gotten married, after you've taken that impressive step, is a sign of failure," he held out his hand to her. "It's not. It's human to disagree, and fights happen."

Leia tentatively placed her hand in his and squeezed it gratefully.

"The first year can be so hard," Bail repeated earnestly. "You'll be okay."

Leia took a deep breath, calmed a little – she'd been prepared to bristle, for a moment, at her father's preaching, but what he said soothed her soul. He pegged some of what she was feeling so well – yes, it felt like a horrifying, awful failure that she and Han were fighting.

They were _supposed_ to be past this.

She drew her hand back and wiped her face, resting her cheek on her knuckles again.

"Did you ever think you'd be trying to save my marriage?" she asked, trying to sound glib, and light - but only sounding miserable.

Bail gave her a gentle, reproachful look.

"Lelila. Your marriage isn't on the rocks," he said, soft, but skeptical; sympathetic, but understanding – he tried to focus her, ground her, steer her away from that fatalistic thinking and towards a logical analysis.

Leia wiped her eyes again, laughing hoarsely.

"No, it's not," she agreed, realizing herself how absurdly dramatic that statement was – she hated fighting with Han, but she wasn't faultless in it, and they weren't disintegrating – she didn't think – yet –

"It's your first _big_ fight?" Bail guessed, emphasizing the word with a sweeping gesture of his hand.

Leia nodded.

Bail sat back patiently. He was quiet for a bit, watching Leia pick up her fork and start poking her food again. When she set it back down, evidently confirming her lack of interest in eating, Bail cleared his throat.

"May I ask what you're fighting about?" he inquired, very cautiously. He was concerned; he didn't want to sound like – well, what had Han called him? – a nosy bastard, but he wondered, too, if he could offer some advice.

Leia sighed, almost a quiet groan of frustration, internally arguing with herself. She didn't want to tell him, she didn't want to talk at all – but he was her father, and he was the one person close to her who had been married, and – perhaps she was just fragile, in the moment, and overwhelmed. She just blurted it out –

"Babies."

Bail looked down at his hand on the table, feeling an old, tired pain flare up in his chest. He thought about Breha, and how often they'd argued over children – not over whether to have them, but over whether or not her whole _life_ was worth the risk –

 _This is my choice, Bail, my choice! My body!_

 _They say you'll die if we try again, Breha! You get to choose if I live the rest of my life without you? It's your choice if I lose children, and my wife?_

He nodded his head, almost to himself – _Oh, yes, Leia; I know how hard that one can be._ He swallowed hard – he'd begged Breha, time and time again, to listen to her doctors; he'd almost lost her, twice, and that was after so many other heart breaks.

Leia sat back, wrapping her arms around herself and looking out towards the sun.

"I thought I was pregnant, about a month ago," Leia whispered, and she almost stopped talking; it felt inappropriate, somehow, to mention it to anyone other than Han – there was no other person, no one except her physician, who knew.

Bail leaned forward, seized with worry.

"Leia, you haven't lost…?"

"No, no," she said, soft, but firm, shaking her head. "No. I wasn't. My," she pursed her lips, and waved her hand a little, apparently deciding not to go into detail. "I wasn't," she repeated.

Bail nodded, relaxing. He frowned thoughtfully.

"Han wasn't happy?"

Leia looked up through her lashes, irritated, and uncomfortable – she knew her father meant no harm, but there it was again, an assumption that she must be only thinking of children now that she was married, that was the obvious next step – and if there was some conflict about it, obviously Han was the problem, because only a heartless woman would be uncertain –

She shook her head sharply.

"Han was unconcerned," she said flatly. "I don't mean he didn't _care_. I mean he," she let out her breath in a rush. Han had acted like it was nothing, like it wouldn't be a change, like he was ready for it, and it didn't bother him at all that they had no plans, they'd never talked about it, and Leia had only felt - "I don't think I'm in a place to cope with motherhood," Leia said flatly. "I don't know if I want to."

Bail looked at her profile for a long moment of silence.

"Is this about…?" he trailed off, but the word _Vader_ was implied in his silence.

The broaching of that – core aspect of it alarmed Leia, and suddenly she felt a harsh rebuke from her own conscience – _you haven't even told your husband you don't think you're mentally well enough for it -!_ The rebuke was accusatory, damning, and it was right – this _wasn't_ fair.

Leia turned to look at him, firmly, though not unkindly.

"I can't talk about this with you," she said.

Bail started to respond, and she cut him off –

"It's not fair to Han."

He fell silent – and he found he wholly agreed with that, to an extent. He didn't think there was anything wrong with her organizing her thoughts by talking to a third party, but if Leia wanted to kept everything about her relationship with Han private, and between the two of them, that was her choice, and it was a strong one.

Bail nodded.

"It's a tough subject to disagree on," he said heavily, with no intention of saying anything else.

Leia nodded, and wiped at her face again, getting up stiffly after a moment. She took her robe off the back of the wire patio chair and slipped it on over her pajamas, gesturing silently to imply she was on her way to get dressed.

"Han and I are good at working around our tensions," she said bravely.

Bail had to bite his tongue to keep silent on that one; because he did not think it was a good sign that she implied she wanted to work around the tensions – rather than saying they were good at resolving their tensions.

He got up, taking her cue, but hesitated, looking down at her food.

"Will you at least try to eat all of that?" he asked.

Leia bristled slightly.

"You sound like Han," she said snippily. "I can't force feed myself if I'm not hungry."

"I ask for Han's sake," Bail said mildly, and Leia arched her brows, looking at him wordlessly.

When he didn't elaborate right away, she said –

"What do you mean?"

"He asked one of the day servants to see if you wanted breakfast in your room," Bail said, shrugging. He furrowed his brow. "He said it really angrily, like he was, er, upset that he cared," he reflected, and then arched a brow at Leia. "How do you think I got an idea of what was going on?"

Leia sighed, her shoulders falling as she leaned against the doorway. She looked at her father contritely, and then she ran her hand over her stomach, clutching at her open robe.

"Where is he?" she asked.

Bail shrugged again.

"He asked the servant to get you breakfast as Luke was dragging him outside," he answered bluntly.

Leia frowned to herself – her father was up here with her, Luke was dragging Han somewhere –

"What is this, a conspiracy?" she asked, half to herself

Bail laughed shortly.

"Well, I don't think the Naberries are going to enjoy witnessing a cold war between a couple of newlyweds," he said dryly – as if that explained his and Luke's subtle, but concerted effort.

Leia said nothing. With a resigned feeling in her stomach – and a flutter of guilty affection, because knowing Han had made an effort to get her breakfast so she could stay and brood in their room reminded her of how good a man he was, and how much she stood to lose – she sat back down at the table to eat breakfast, and to orient herself away from the negative feelings that lingered from last night.

* * *

Han wasn't exactly used to being dragged places by Luke. That wasn't to say he was bothered by it – he'd only gotten up and gone down to the kitchen when he woke up because it seemed, at the time, to be a better idea than waiting sullenly for Leia to wake up to see what kind of mood she was in.

He also didn't want her to wake up, walk out to find him waiting on her, and think he'd planned on some kind of ambush to continue last night's – _heated discussion._

So initially, going down to breakfast like everything was normal, and he and Leia hadn't abruptly gone to bed after he'd made a clearly insensitive comment last night, seemed like a fantastic idea – and it was to a certain extent; Ryoo's kids had no idea what had happened, and as usual, they were the center of everyone's attention.

Ryoo, though, was immediately cautious about letting them bug Han, which implied to him that she thought her personal life choices must be a sore subject for him and Leia, and Jobal and Sola were watching both him, and the door, pointedly, as if waiting for Leia to appear.

When Bail appeared and also seemed to pointedly miss Leia's presence, Han started to get up to go looking for her – which was exactly when Luke had swept in and asked him to go for a walk. Which Han thought was a corny, stupid way to get him out of the house, but since Bail gave him a paternal sort of glare that implied more cooling off was probably a good idea, Han went with Luke – not before asking if someone could see if Leia wanted breakfast in her room, if she was feeling out of sorts.

He knew his tone sounded insincere, but he really did care if Leia ate breakfast, even if he wanted to be angry. He didn't – actually, he didn't even want to be angry with her, but when Leia got the claws out, they always hit exactly what she aimed for, and he couldn't help how he felt.

Luke took him down the front of the Naberrie property, down to the docks they'd originally come in near. He sat down on a boulder near the edge of the lake, and picked up a handful of pebbles, remaining quiet. When he was quiet for too long, Han gave the back of his head an annoyed look.

"We gonna meditate?" he asked. "Is this where you come to talk to your Force ghost friends?"

Luke flicked a pebble across the water.

"As a matter of fact, I meditate at my mother's grave, while I'm here," he retorted coolly. "Don't be a dick, Han."

Han ran a hand back through his hair, frowning. His shoulders sagged, and he interlocked his fingers, resting them on the back of his head and stretching. He looked up at the sky and exhaled gruffly, shaking his head.

"Yeah, sorry, kid."

"Hmm," Luke mumbled neutrally.

He rattled his handful of pebbles.

"What's going on?" he asked mildly. "I've never seen you call Leia out like that in company."

He frowned, picking around at the rocks.

"Well, not so personally," he said. "I mean, you bickered back on Hoth and stuff," he reflected.

Han just stared at the back of his head, listening, and watching dubiously. Luke flattened his palm.

"Nothin's going on," Han said.

Luke sighed, and didn't say anything for a while.

"Okay," he said finally, and shrugged.

"That's it?" Han pressed.

Luke shrugged again.

Han glared at him.

"I get that this is supposed to annoy me into talking to you," he muttered, taking his hands off his head and walking down to the edge of the water. "Kind of pissed that it's gonna work," he muttered.

Luke grinned, and skipped a rock. Han watched it, frowning vaguely.

"Can you skip those with the Force?" he asked moodily, challenging Luke.

Luke nodded, and flicked one easily across the lake without lifting a finger. Han scowled at him, and folded his arms across his chest, looking down at the silt he was standing on, damp, and easily marked by his boots.

"I'm betting you went to bed last night and had a fight with Leia," Luke said calmly.

"I had a fight with Leia, and then I went to bed," Han retorted smartly. _On the couch_ , he thought, and then winced at himself – _what a dick move, Solo._

Luke snorted a little.

"Logistics aside," he said, "that there was a fight is sort of inevitable, I assume, since you put her on the spot like that."

Han was pointedly silent, and Luke nodded, figuring his assumption was fair.

"And it's not better this morning," Luke muttered carefully, looking at his pebbles again.

Han was silent again.

"No," he agreed finally. "I mean, I don't know," he said. "I haven't seen Leia this morning."

"Sending her breakfast was nice," Luke said. "She's really upset."

"Oh, she's talking to you?" Han said, flaring angrily. He turned and glared at his brother-in-law.

Luke shook his head.

"I haven't talked to her," he placated.

"You're reading her mind, then."

"No," Luke insisted calmly. "She's closed off to me. Even when we're closed off to each other, we can sense a general idea of the other's mood," he explained, "and Leia's mood is down."

Han twitched uncomfortably, turning around. Luke didn't seem mad at him, but he still felt the need to argue in favor of himself –

"Well, I wanted her to know I _care_ ," he said flatly. "Since she informed me that I don't _care_ about her," he added petulantly.

It was still bothering him more than he thought it would, even after he'd slept on it. He crouched down and swept a few rocks into his own hand, running his fingers over the dirt.

Luke looked up at him, blinking in the sun.

"That doesn't sound like Leia," he said slowly.

Han shrugged.

"Yes, it does," he retorted – but he didn't mean it sounded like her as in it was something she actually thought, it was just – the nasty way she targeted him had been very, very true to Leia when she felt backed into a corner.

Han shook his head with a taut jaw, refraining from giving the entire quote to Luke – he didn't think Leia would appreciate him re-hashing the fight with her brother, and he didn't want to tell Luke they were fighting about having a baby. Luke might think they were – it was hard to explain that they were barely even fighting over the idea of it.

Han grit his teeth.

"She didn't mean it, that's the thing. I _know_ she doesn't fucking…mean it. She doesn't think that. She said it to piss me off, 'cause she knew it would."

He frowned stiffly – especially that part about him wanting her to stay home and raise his kids; Leia was insane if she thought, even for a second, he'd ever entertained that idea.

Luke sighed, skipping a stone across the water without moving a finger, again using solely the Force. He thought about it, and then he tilted his head.

"If you know how she is, then why react to it?" he asked quietly.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Han bristled.

Luke rested his elbow on his knee, and his chin on the flat of his palm, shaking the pebbles out of his other palm and brushing it on his tunic.

"I mean," he clarified gently, "if you know Leia only goes for certain spots because they're sensitive, why don't you just –"

"I'm not sensitive!"

"– brush it off," Luke finished calmly. "Call her on it, or ignore it…and move on."

Han glared at him, faltering for a moment.

"I can't just let her do that," he snapped. "It doesn't matter if it's me. I get it. I get _her_. What if she sinks her teeth into someone who doesn't get it? She can't – because she can't act like this," Han said tensely. "Look, we're in this house full of people who she wants to like her, and what if she attacks one of them?" he justified.

Luke smiled a little gloomily.

"Han, can't you just admit that she hurt your feelings? It _does_ matter if she attacks your weak spots. No one should do that, especially in anger."

Han scowled, scuffing his foot. He flung one of his rocks violently into the calm lake.

"Look, kid, it didn't hurt me," he spat, rolling his eyes, "because there's no way she actually thinks that."

"Then why let it start a fight?"

"She wanted a fight!"

"Why _let_ her have it?"

Han wanted to turn around and peg Luke in the nose with a rock – _because we need to have a fight, if she doesn't want to talk like an adult!,_ he thought angrily, and then he realized the irony of complaining that his wife was being immature when he'd just considered flicking a rock at someone for talking some sense into turned another stone over in his palm, dragging a thumb over it roughly. He grit his teeth, and then grimaced heavily. He didn't want to say the awful thing that came to his lips, but Luke's constantly cool presence drew it out of him –

"'Cause I know how bad she'll feel about it."

Luke sighed quietly.

"That's fucked up," Luke said flatly.

Han flung the rock, running a hand over his jaw as he watched it soar.

"I don't _want_ her to feel bad," he muttered, backtracking. " It's not like that," he said, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "I just want her to remember that I'm not the enemy."

Luke turned his eyes down, his throat locking up – he closed his eyes. He felt inexplicably at fault for this – rift? Friction? Discord?

Leia and Han were nothing but pure content until Luke persuaded them all it was time to bring in the Naberries, and somehow, he could sense that being here was exacerbating a problem – he'd sensed it when he met Leia on the _Falcon_ , and she had such fearful thoughts, and he sensed it now, because something must be wrong if Han had such lack of self control that he said something contentious in company.

"I know Leia finds all of this stuff so hard," Luke said warily. "I've been having a blissful experience here, it's like finding family for me, but I'm sure it's different," he paused, and rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry if I pushed her with this, and it's affecting – "

"Hey, kid, c'mon," Han said heavily, turning to face Luke. He shook his head, his expression grim, and dropped his shoulders. "This ain't your fault," he said flatly. He set his jaw, falling silent for a second, and then slid his hands into his pockets in defeat. "It's not you," he gestured at Varykino, on the cliffs. "It's not really them, either. She likes 'em, a lot."

He arched a brow at Luke until Luke seemed to perk up a little. Han gave him a half-hearted smile.

"It's been…goin' on," Han admitted, running a hand through his hair. He waved his hand vaguely near his face. "Kind of an, ongoing, uh, argument – for a month or so," he muttered.

Luke looked sympathetic, his face falling.

"Really bad?" he asked hesitantly.

Han shrugged.

"No," he said slowly his hand on his neck. "No, I mean, nothin' we won't _get_ through," he said confidently. "Just, ah," he broke off. "Hell, y'know?" he said. "Fighting with your girl. It's like bein' in hell."

Luke nodded…and then he grinned, a little sheepishly.

"I guess I don't," he said. "My relationships are kind of, er – they're – flings."

"Oh yeah. I forgot you're the family slut," Han snorted.

Luke rolled his eyes, hanging his head in mock shame.

"Still, I have a gift for empathy," he muttered. "I'm sorry, Han."

Han shrugged again, scuffing his foot. It would be okay – like he said, nothing they wouldn't get through. He just didn't like discord – not with her. He was actually fine with conflict concerning most other people in his life.

"Can I do anything?" Luke asked.

Han shook his head.

"It's between me'n'her," he said.

Luke nodded respectfully. He rested his chin on his palm again, thinking.

"Well," he started. "If you want some more time to be sort of…not right on top of each other," he said carefully, "we could offer to take the kids down to see the _Falcon_." He cleared his throat, shrugging. "It'd take up some time, and you know Indy and Iver really want to explore it."

"Yeah," Han agreed in a mutter, scuffing his foot again. "Yeah, and I said I'd let 'em see it, the other day," he said. "I dunno, Luke," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "I don't think I should go out of my way to hang out with the kids today."

He frowned a little, wondering if Luke could sort of – get it, without getting it. He was already wary that Leia thought he was being deliberately subversive by interacting too closely with the kids at all. He didn't want her to think that – and he wasn't doing that – but at the same time, if it was forcing an issue she was otherwise trying to pretend didn't exist, maybe it was worth it –

"Ahhh, okay," Luke drawled slowly, vaguely piecing it together.

He crossed his legs, resting his elbows on his knees in a meditative posture, though he didn't close his eyes or straighten his back – nothing that would indicate he intended to actually start meditating.

"What do you think you guys need?" Luke asked after a moment.

Han shrugged. He wasn't totally sure, yet. He knew there was a lot going on for Leia; the Naberries, the ever-present specter of Vader, and her continuing journey with that – Shmi Skywalker's diary. He thought being here was actually good, even if Leia was a little preoccupied with coming off as perfect – if they were back on Coruscant, there was the chance she'd absorb herself in work – Han wanted to know what the root of the problem is.

"Han?" Luke ventured.

Han looked over at him silently.

"When you and Leia fight, and she apologizes, what do you tell her?" he asked.

Han felt on edge, and looked at him warily.

"I tell her it's fine," he said shortly. "Like I said, kid, I know she feels bad – "

"Don't do that," Luke interrupted. Han looked up at Luke seriously. "I think it'll help," he said earnestly.

"With what?" Han asked, exasperated.

"What you said, about not wanting her to snap like that on other people? Then don't even let her do it to you," he advised thoughtfully. "Don't tell her it's okay. Accept the apology. But don't say it's okay."

Han listened to him. He didn't answer, and he looked down at his feet, kicking pebbles towards the edge of the lake. He squinted at the water – it was bright, clear blue, and reflected the sun so nicely that it made his eyes ache a little. There might be some merit to what Luke said – Han was still learning; every day, he was still learning, and he may have gotten a little rusty on handling Leia, since things had been so – at ease, for so long, so – lacking in _bad_.

He nodded a little, taking a deep breath – and he glanced back up at the mansion on the rocks, bringing his hand up to shield his face from the sun. He frowned absently, wondering what the odds were that she'd eaten breakfast - he figured he'd done enough pushing last night that it was fair to let today settle, and see what she did with it.

* * *

Leia did eventually emerge from her room, caffeinated and a little perked up, with every intention of apologizing for her late appearance and for the tension the night before. Han was not around when she peered into a room where she heard the most voices and in fact, Leia was unable to get a word out before she was being offered an invitation to go down to the foothill village with Sola and Jobal.

She accepted, a little taken aback by their breezy nature, but she also quick recognized it for what it was: they were showing her they were willing to make nothing of the night's previous events, and giving her an out for the day.

"Believe it or not," Sola was saying dryly, as she showed Leia the way towards the bustling bazaar of the little town, "it can get claustrophobic up in Varykino," she said. "You wouldn't think so, since it's so large, but," Sola shrugged.

"There are more of us crowding the place," Leia said, inclining her head warily.

"Nonsense," Jobal remarked, adjusting a large canvas bag she'd brought with her – "Mami, let me carry that," Sola said briskly, and Jobal handed it over, smiling warmly at Leia. "There's only four more of us, and that barely takes up half the space we have," she noted.

She laughed.

"You're even separated from your father by two levels."

"Which I thought was best," Sola said, easily bearing the canvas bag on her shoulder. "The Viceroy actually thought it would be funny to put you and Han in separate rooms," she revealed.

"That does not surprise me," Leia said dryly.

"You needn't worry," Jobal said nicely. "We talked him out of it."

"It was my idea to put him on a different floor," Sola announced wryly. "I was a newlywed once. I wouldn't have wanted my father anywhere _near_ my bedroom."

"Oh, Sola," Jobal chastised, rolling her eyes affectionately.

"It doesn't matter now," Sola said, touching Leia's elbow and leaning over to dramatically confide in her. "If Papa stood outside the door, all he'd hear would be me kicking Darred and ordering him to stop snoring."

Jobal laughed.

"Ruwee has always been selectively deaf, anyway," she joked fondly.

Leia smiled at the way they talked about their husbands – and their easy relationship. She wondered what her relationship with her own mother would be like, if Breha was still alive. Leia had always been close to her mother, respected her and loved her, but would they have shared this easy friendship, as Sola and Jobal did? When Breha died, Leia had only been nineteen – an adult, and a mature one at that, to be sure, but still coming into her own as a woman, and still very much in need of a mother, rather than a best friend.

"I miss being a newlywed," Jobal said wryly. "Everything was so exciting."

Sola gave her mother a sideways look and then glanced at Leia skeptically, and shook her head.

"I don't miss it," she said. "Exciting, sure. But everything was the end of the world, too," she said, turning her head and pointing to an upcoming booth. "I'll show you some native flowers, here, Leia," she said. "I'll point out my sister's favorites – every time Darred and I had an argument," she said, continuing with her first line of thought, "I thought he was going to walk out the door and never come back. And we argued about everything. Although," she paused, tilting her head, "we never lived together before we were married. "So," she went on, snorting, "discovering how the other lived was like a moral outrage every time we disagreed."

Jobal nodded.

"You two did fight quite a bit," she noted. "You always could be unreasonable, Sola," pointed out. "Even when you were a little girl," she added, even as Sola glared at her mildly and rolled her eyes – "Yes, you were," Jobal said patiently, "always waiting for people to guess why you were angry."

Sola shrugged.

"You and Padmé were so different in that respect," Jobal noted.

Leia turned to Jobal, tilting her head.

"How was Padmé different?" she asked.

"Oh, if Padmé was upset about something, everyone knew," Jobal said, eyes wide. "Immediately, and loudly."

"That's why she was an excellent queen," Sola said, matter-of-fact. "My little sister took no prisoners, even within her own political party. Her first act," Sola added, pausing and turning to Leia, "was to strip Naboo's incumbent senator of his position, as she discovered he was taking bribes. There's a way that corruption gets entrenched in societies, and in people, and it has everything to do with someone not speaking up until it's very difficult to undo," Sola reflected, "and Padmé sounded alarms immediately."

Sola turned to the flower booth they had reached.

"She was sitting in the dining room at Varykino criticizing Chancellor Palpatine's emergency powers not even a month after he was granted them."

Leia listened, her head tilted up – she was nearly a foot shorter than Sola, but she'd never been intimidated by the height of others around her; she couldn't be, when she was by virtue of biology smaller than nearly everyone.

Sola turned to her and smiled.

"' _War is meant to deconstruct the tyranny of the corrupt, not engender totalitarian arrogance_ ,'" she quoted. She pointed at Leia wryly. "She said that. I don't know why I remember it."

"I do," Jobal said quietly, bending to examine a bouquet of bright yellow petals. "She was fighting with Anakin, over dinner."

"Oh, yes," Sola recalled, snapping her fingers. "One of their dramatic meltdowns - after which," she said knowingly, "they'd disappear for an _hour_ and reappear completely _amiable_ ," she arched a brow pointedly. "He was arguing that Chancellor Palpatine's strong leadership was needed," Sola trailed off, tilting her head thoughtfully.

Jobal said nothing, compressing her lips.

"Ah," Sola said, tucking a few loose strands of hair back easily. "In retrospect, some of what Anakin said at our dinner table is questionable," she noted dryly.

Jobal cleared her throat softly. She looked at Leia carefully.

"There were many people who supported Chancellor Palpatine's emergency Clone Wars powers," she said levelly, "and many of them trusted him, and had good will in their hearts."

"Mami – lord of Theed," Sola swore, exasperated, "I'm sure Leia knows that – obviously Anakin wasn't one of those misguided, well-intentioned, fools."

Jobal looked at Sola reproachfully, and turned away slightly, reaching out to arrange some bent looking flowers.

"Well, I believe he was," she said softly, almost to herself.

Leia watched her, and Sola shook her head, businesslike.

"There's no need to discuss Anakin on a sunny street in the village," she said, suspecting that Leia Organa Solo did not make it a point in her everyday life to casually banter about the complexities of Anakin Skywalker and his menacing alter ego. "Leia," she said, taking a deep breath. She turned and presented a bouquet of delicately beautiful golden-pink flowers to her, adjusting a ribbon tied around their stems. "These were Padmé's favorite flowers. They're called – "

"Dayalillies," Leia finished, holding them up to her nose.

Jobal peered over her shoulder, and looked up at Sola, delighted.

"You know them?" she asked.

"Yes," Leia said quietly. "They – we had them in the greenhouses, on Alderaan," she explained, looking between them both. "My mother used to put them in my hair when I was very little."

Leia bit her lip, taking in a deep breath – they had a pleasant, subtle scent; never overpowering and very soothing.

"Father made her stop," she said slowly. "I remember – she had woven them in my hair for my first presentation on Coruscant and he took all of them out, one by one," Leia trailed off, looking up at Sola grimly.

Sola stepped back, nodding, as if she understood Leia's silent question.

"Yes," she said quietly. "Anakin knew they were her favorite."

Leia looked down at the bouquet – she'd been six years old the first time her parents took her to the court on Coruscant, dolled up in neat, innocently woven braids, and wearing white dress with a gold sash, pink-and-gold flowers in her hair, and Bail had told Breha – _you can't take her in front of them with those flowers, B - !_

He had never explained why, though Leia only remembered feeling exasperated that she had to sit still, again, while her hair was redone.

"Knowing what he knew, I doubt he would have risked taking you in front of Vader with Padmé's flowers in your hair," Sola said dully.

Leia looked past the dayalillies to the abundance of other flowers on the cart, struck with that peculiar feeling she was accustomed to, now, the one she got when something from her upbringing turned out to mean something more, or not quite be what it seemed. The way she felt when she found out dear Sabé had known Padmé Amidala, or her most annoying security supervisor had been a fallen Jedi there to take the blame for her if need be.

"What a humbling thought," Jobal murmured. She breathed in thoughtfully. "I'd like to tell myself that if Bail kept dayalillies on Alderaan, he did it honor of Padmé."

Sola nodded a bit shortly, and Leia held the flowers gingerly, closer to her. Sola said something to the vendor, and handed over a chip to exchange credits, which Leia tried to protest –

"Oh, hush," Sola said breezily. "You're my niece; I have," she paused, taken aback. "How old are you, again?" she asked, trying to calculate quickly. "Twenty-?"

"Five," Leia supplied.

"Impossible. I can't be that old," Sola said, deadpan. "We'll say you're sixteen," she decided, finishing her exchange with the vendor, and turning to Leia with her arched eyebrow – that eyebrow that seemed permanently cocked in amusement.

Leia laughed, genuinely amused by Sola – her personality, her way of looking at the world.

"Twenty-five years," she admitted, wryly, "of spoiling you to make up for."

"It's not necessary," Leia said softly, shaking her head.

"I'm sure it's not," Sola agreed honestly. "I doubt a Princess of Alderaan wanted for anything – do you and Luke ever argue about that?" she asked with interest. "Who got the better deal?"

Leia laughed a little, and Sola went on –

"The poor boy, toiling away on a moisture farm – nothing to be ashamed of, he's one of the sweetest souls I've ever met, but damn," Sola snorted, "you got a palace and Luke got sandcastles."

Sola pointed out another booth, quick and eager to show Leia around their quaint little cultural village.

"I know the Organas wanted a baby, and of course Padmé loved Bail like a brother, but they might have done Luke the favor of dropping him off with us."

Leia closed her eyes with a wince and opened one, looking at Sola apologetically.

"I have to admit that I cannot tell if you are joking or intensely angry," she said dryly.

"She's joking," Jobal noted intuitively. "That's how Sola is – that is precisely why she was never a politician," Jobal added, glaring mildly at her oldest daughter.

"I prefer to address obvious points of contention head on," Sola said blandly, shrugging. "Either way, I wouldn't be angry with you."

"Sola," Jobal sighed, shaking her head.

"Luke's family was good to him," Leia offered fairly.

"He told us what happened to them on Tatooine," Jobal said sadly, stopping with Sola and Leia in front of the next establishment. "Merciless."

"His uncle fought to protect him," Leia said. "His aunt and uncle both tried to keep him on Tatooine, away from the fray," she reflected.

"I like hearing that," Jobal said sincerely. "I know my husband has been – reserved and even," she sighed, "bitter," she said, "while you've been here, but I don't see much use in living in the past. I'm just pleased to learn about the two of you," she said, "and earnest to know that you weren't treated poorly."

Leia put her hand on Jobal's arm, right above her elbow, and gave her a quiet, reassuring smile.

"The Organas loved me," she said firmly. "Unconditionally."

Jobal smiled, and leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on Leia's brow, thinking nothing of it, and Leia watched her turn and begin to examine some fabrics, her shoulders held a little higher. Sola slipped her arm through Leia's and pointed to another booth just past the clothing –

"Mami will spend ages with the fabrics," she said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "This is glass art," she said, introducing the display at the next booth, "and behind us, across the path, there's preserves – honey, and jams, and the like," she explained. "When Mami is done at the fabrics, we ought to go down to one of the piers and have a late lunch."

Leia nodded, turning her attention to the many trinkets made of glass – many of them were iridescent, infused with inks, and though they were just simple glass, they reminded Leia of her necklace, and she touched up to touch her throat, passing her fingers over the delicate molushka pendant.

"Do you mind if I ask you what that is?" Sola inquired.

Leia turned, draping the pendant over two fingers to show it off more clearly.

"In Alderaanian tradition, tokens of marriage are necklaces," she murmured. "Han gave me this.

"The flower?" Sola prompted, gesturing politely. "I don't recognize it."

"Molushka," Leia said, making sure to use the Alderaanian accent in her pronunciation. "They're extinct."

"It's beautiful," Sola said honestly, stepping back. "Shimmerglass?"

Leia nodded.

"He had it designed," she remarked.

Sola laughed, tilting her head.

"Han Solo seems like ten times more decent a man than he wants the public to think he is," she said – and Leia grinned, unable to help herself, because Sola had Han so accurately pegged that it hurt.

"He _is_ ," Leia said, her face softening.

"I hope, then," Sola said, stepping to the side of the booths, nearer to the one her mother was at, while Jobal haggled pleasantly over the price of some cloth, "that none of us have sowed any discord there," she said firmly.

She looked at Leia searchingly.

"Ryoo put her foot in her mouth the first time she met you, smacking her gums about twins," she said, "and Mami," Sola turned her head, looking at Jobal fondly, but with a small frown, "she _means_ well."

Leia swallowed hard, hesitating.

"I've been meaning to – apologize for last evening," she said heavily. "Han – and it was unsavory for me to storm out," she started, and Sola shook her head.

"No, it was unfair of my mother to put you on the spot," she said.

Leia tilted her head back and forth, equivocating – truth be told, she had been nettled by it, but she didn't think Jobal meant any harm, and she thought most people, in fact, were full of kind curiosity when they asked personal questions without much thought. The Media – that was a different story altogether.

"You aren't obligated to set her at ease," Sola said, "so that isn't why I'm telling you this - she feels _very_ bad."

Leia frowned honestly.

"She didn't have harmful intentions," she said honestly. "Sola, I'm not blind to Han's faults; he instigated something, and I reacted – poorly," she said honestly. "Han and I…have an ongoing issue," she said flatly, admitting it and moving on quickly. "It has nothing to do with you, or Jobal, _or_ ," she stressed, arching a brow, "Ryoo," she noted – Ryoo had seemed so apologetic, when she'd seen Leia off this morning, hustling her kids away as if they were a nuisance, and Leia felt terrible about it.

Sola nodded, looking at Leia intently.

"Well," she said, and nodded over Leia's shoulder at Jobal thoughtfully. "We've both been married for years," she noted. "Ryoo's a bit more freshly hitched than Mami and I are – but we all have insight, and you shouldn't think we turn our noses up at you if you have a little spat with your husband," she said, matter-of-fact.

"Oh, certainly not," Jobal said quietly, joining them with an armful of fabrics – and giving Sola a mildly withering look. "We were _meant_ to be distracting her."

"And my lack of ability to ignore issues surfaces again," Sola said bluntly.

Jobal gave Leia a serene, wry smile.

"You aren't the first couple to have a disagreement in public," she advised. "I seem to remember Sola and Darred shouting at each other in the courtyard while Ruwee was roasting dinner in the fire pit."

"Well, Darred was being stupid," Sola said swiftly, as if making a point. She shrugged. "Anakin and Padmé did it, too, as I already mentioned."

Leia's expression flickered, and she hastily composed it, but Jobal noticed, and gave Sola a sharp look –

"And there _you_ go," she reprimanded. Jobal shook her head at Leia soothingly. "She doesn't mean to imply one fight will land you in Padmé's shoes," she said hastily, glaring at Sola.

Leia smiled faintly – she didn't want her relationship compared to Anakin Skywalker's at all, though she supposed she didn't really know much about it. Comparisons might be valid, and then, they might not be valid – she knew though, without a doubt, that whatever happened, Han would never betray her in any fashion. She could – she could probably walk out on him, turn her back in favor of her career, or even another man, and Han wouldn't even hate her for it, he'd hate himself.

Thinking about him, Leia smiled, and a lot of the tension in her stomach, and in all of her muscles, relaxed – and she looked at Sola and Jobal gratefully; happy they had taken her out to the village, and taking a cautious moment to revel in discovering them, having more women in her life who were authentic, and familial.

She felt at ease, and it was a relief.

"It's easy to talk about my sister," Sola said quietly, shaking her head with resignation. "It's difficult, I'm noticing, to discuss her separate from Anakin, when it comes to you and Luke," she admitted. "And I know one is a welcome discussion, and one – more troublesome."

Jobal adjusted her armful of fabrics and lifted her chin bravely.

"Yes, well, it's occurred to me there may be only one way to get around that, and it's to face the issue head on – Leia, we know you were treated violently by Darth Vader, and it can't be easy to hear the man he used to be discussed frivolously."

Leia gave her a dry look.

"He's a shadow that's there regardless of if we touch on it," she said honestly.

Jobal nodded.

"You've all been here a few days, you've settled in," she said. "I wonder if it might be a – healthy idea to sit down one evening – after Ryoo's little ones are in bed, of course, and address that, ah, behemoth," she said slowly. "Anakin. Anakin and Padmé."

Leia took a deep breath – and holding it lightly, she nodded; it might do them all some good. Conversations now just seemed to – skirt around meaty issues, or vaguely reference the past, and Leia knew Luke would thrive on a focused, designated conversation.

She didn't think there was much to – reveal, no huge secrets left to flesh out; there were just perspectives to understand – and she was here to listen to those different perspectives, and internalize them, and continue coping with her history in her own way, separate from Luke's ethereal peace and acceptance.

"We know Luke wants to know about Ani," Sola said gently, "and we…we knew _Ani_ ," she said meaningfully. "There's no one here, Leia, who wants to…disrespect what Vader did to _you_. He oppressed all of us, but we know _you_ faced him personally."

Leia looked at her softly. She felt – odd, discussing Vader out in the sunlight, in frank voices, with a village around her, but Sola's brisk honesty was heartening, and Jobal's concern and kindness were endearing, and Leia took a deep breath.

"I think an arrangement like that is worth it," she said quietly. "You're right, Sola. It's troublesome," she quoted her aunt's words a little wryly, because troublesome was so tame a word for all the turmoil Leia felt. "I hate him," she said bluntly. "Luke begs me not to hate, but I hate him."

She let out a breath slowly, and reached out to take the fabric Jobal was holding, easing her load politely.

"I want to talk about Padmé," she promised. She didn't go as far as to totally let her guard down, to tell them that she was doing so much better with it; there was a time in her life when she balked so completely at all of this that she couldn't have handled acknowledging that Naberries existed, because it would have meant accepting that she descended from Vader, and that was unacceptable – but she was doing so much better now, and she had faith that these people could help her just as much as Luke could.

"I have something to ask of you all, as well," she admitted softly, "at some point."

Jobal and Sola nodded, neither of them questioning her further, and the three of them – three generations – stood in easy quiet for a moment, before Sola seemed to take sharp notice of how much fabric Jobal had purchased, and how diverse a collection it was, and she widened her eyes, exasperated.

"Mother. What in Gungan's _hell_ are you going to do with all of that?"

Jobal blinked, unconcerned.

"I'm going to make Luke some new tunics," she said simply.

"He's a grown man," Sola protested.

"Ah, I think Luke's style is looking like he just slept on the street," Leia advised wryly, thinking of Luke's constantly dusty robes, and his frayed tunics. "Aunt Rouge got him into a sleek new one for my wedding."

Jobal ignored both of them, lifting her chin.

"Mark my words," she said mildly, "that young man needs a sweater from a mother," she guessed intuitively.

"Well, I ought to make it," Sola joked. "I think I'm the one who would have passed off Luke as mine, back then, you old crone," she teased.

"Don't be silly, darling," Jobal retorted, quick as a whip, "I want him to look nice, not as if a blind gundark has made him a scarf."

Sola glared at her, and Leia grinned, shifting her arms to tuck her fabrics, and her dayalillies, a little closer to her – and she enjoyed the sun, enjoyed their dynamic – and looked forward to the rest of the day; even looked forward to seeing Han again, later – with her animosity evaporated.

* * *

With the balcony doors left open so the late night Naboo breeze could waft in, Leia sat curled in an armchair in the antechamber of her room, her knees tucked under her and Shmi Skywalker's datapad balanced neatly in her lap.

She'd been reading through it intently – though with her usual vague apprehension – when Luke appeared, roaming in unassumingly. He sat down, and Leia took a break – reading the diary was sometimes like reading a horror novel, in the strangest sense. It wasn't that the story was scary in itself, it was haunting because she knew what became of the boy Shmi worried so intently about, and because naturally, every time she turned a page, she feared she'd see something macabre.

"I thought you said Han reads that with you," Luke ventured, sitting across from her on the sofa.

"He does," Leia said, shaking her hair back and dimming the lights on the data pad to take a break. She lifted her shoulders. "He wasn't around, and I haven't looked at it in a few days."

She smiled a little at Luke – it wasn't anything to worry about; she wasn't reading it without Han in protest.

"He often falls asleep while I listen," she added.

"Where _is_ Han, then?" Luke asked, scratching his chin. "Where'd he go after dinner?"

Luke frowned to himself – he hadn't noticed Han disappear, and he'd assumed he was up here with Leia, when Leia had taken leave for bed. It was somewhat of an early night; the kids were overtired and acting out something fierce, and Whyler and Ryoo were tense because of it - -the aftermath of Han and Leia's back-and-forth lingered, too, and it seemed everyone had taken a more private day.

"He went with Darred to look at some of the hunting speeders," Leia answered. "Han's good with mechanics," she added, unnecessarily – Luke nodded, abruptly remembering Darred mentioning something about making sure everything was in order, and needing a second pair of eyes on one of the speeders.

She smiled pleasantly, and Luke nodded, leaning back –the two of them seemed at least moderately back on track; Leia had returned from her foray into the village in good spirits, good enough spirits to have a somewhat chastising conversation with her father on the topic of a certain species of flower.

She and Han had seemed fine during dinner, if careful with each other, and Leia had sat out in the back courtyard with Pooja discussing some of their more minor political irritants while Han kicked a smashball around with Indy – until Indy accidentally kicked the ball at his mother, shouted at her when she scolded him – and all hell broke loose with the children.

"It _can_ get crazy around here, can't it?" Luke asked, sighing. He ran his hands over his face. "The family dynamics are so fascinating."

Leia smiled at him, resting her elbow on the armrest of the sofa, and placing her chin on her hand.

"Is it all you wanted and more?" she asked, teasing a little, but sincerely wondering.

She hadn't been deprived of this kind of family when she was in her formative years – Luke had, in a way. Caring and reliable as his aunt and uncle had been –

"It kind of _is_ ," Luke said honestly, mimicking her pose to look back at her earnestly. "No disrespect to Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen, but it was quiet on the farm," he said. "It was empty. I had no siblings, I had to take a speeder to get to the next farm – it was isolated," he explained, "and I was something my aunt and uncle committed to, but they never asked for, you know? I don't think it's that they didn't love me or want me around, but I wasn't in the plan."

Luke frowned.

"Does that make sense? I don't want to sound like I resent them," he said sheepishly. "I only mean – you may not have been part of Bail's plan, but he and Breha Organa _wanted_ you, desperately."

Leia pursed her lips to speak, but paused, when Luke went on –

"I think the Naberries would have wanted me," he said. "Jobal _especially_. And you, of course. Anakin Skywalker's stepbrother was probably bewildered, and a little daunted by being asked to take me in," he gestured at the diary, "I mean, they barely knew him. Shmi never even mentions them meeting, so I don't know – how they _met."_

Luke sighed.

"And…they're good people," he said, for what had to be the hundredth time.

Leia nodded, pursing her lips again.

"I understand, Luke," she assured him – she understood what he wanted to say, and that he had no bitter feelings towards his late aunt and uncle; she'd come to understand, in conversations that had passed last year, that she and Luke shared wildly different adoptive experiences. She had been made a _part_ of a family. Luke had been hidden by one - and just like she'd angrily wanted him to be more sensitive to her issues with Vader, she had learned to be more open-minded about why exactly he was so earnestly interested in his roots, his bloodline, and making peace with it.

"It's a little overwhelming," Luke admitted quietly. "I'm so used to solitude, and they're so close."

Leia nodded.

"You were right about them, though," she said. " _Good_ people."

"Did you not believe me?" Luke asked, amused.

"I did," Leia said honestly. "It's only that you have a tendency to _find_ the good in everyone. The Naberries are genuinely _good_. It doesn't have to be searched for."

Luke beamed.

"I'm," he started. "Well, I'm glad you're - are you having a good time?" he asked a little awkwardly – he suddenly felt silly assuming, since there was clearly a stubborn sort of rift between her and Han.

Leia ran her hands through her hair lightly, and nodded, chewing gently on the inside of her cheek.

"Hmm," she murmured. "It's not quite as – awkward as I thought it might be," she allowed. "There was a lot of formality at first, but they seem very accepting. I suppose I anticipated more," she paused, trying to find the words, "resistance to us?"

"I know you did," Luke said. "I think that has to do with you projecting your own struggles with accepting the truth about Vader, though," he said simply. "They conceive it differently, I guess. They don't look at us and see little Vader brats. They see their daughter's children. Babies she _wanted_."

Leia nodded, and lifted her brows.

"They see stolen children," she said a little dryly – she may not have dug into Ruwee Naberrie's comments yet, but she had noted them, and noted them with caution, and intellect. Sola, too, had made her fair share of references to the injustice.

Luke shrugged a little.

"That's on Bail," he said, lifting his hands.

Leia laughed.

"Father," she sighed, lifting her eyes up. "Father and all of his," she didn't know what word to use – she had contended with, and overcome, her fear that Bail had manipulated her for his own schemes; she knew he had loved her and protected her, and let her choose the Rebellion for herself – but she couldn't absolve him completely of underhanded conniving.

Leia tilted her head.

"His good intentions," she decided firmly.

"I think he was more at the mercy of the surviving Jedi than he wants to think," Luke said frankly. "Master Yoda, and Ben. In any case, I don't think any of them blame _us_."

Leia inclined her head in agreement.

"Did Jobal speak to you about dinner tomorrow evening?" she asked dryly.

"You mean _The Anakin Skywalker Family Roundtable Implosion?"_ Luke asked, deadpan.

Leia made a shrill noise that may have been a giggle, and widened her eyes. She shook her head, gritting her teeth.

"She called it that?" she asked.

"No," Luke said honestly, smirking a little. "Actually, Darred called it that, except he used the word 'heart-to-heart' and Han told him implosion was better," he joked.

Leia smiled a little.

"Bail, naturally, snapped at Han about it, and Han said," Luke paused, recalling, "something about how Bail was delusional if he thought there wasn't going to be yelling."

"Fair assessment," Leia said, lifting one shoulder.

"Who will start the yelling, though?" Luke asked, feigning innocence. He smirked, and held up his hands, positioning them like mock mouths. _"Yelling at the dinner table isn't civilized, Han,"_ he quoted, mimicking Bail. _"Bet Leia yells at you before the second course,"_ he retorted, acting as Han now.

Leia compressed her lips, amused by Luke's antics, but a little nettled by that repeated comment.

"Lovely to hear Han has such faith in me," she said, a sarcastic edge cutting into her voice.

Luke's hands fell, and she shrugged mildly.

"Well you did yell at me a lot when Bail told us about Padmé," he reminded her.

"I'm in a better place," Leia said tersely.

Luke arched his brows at her tone, and leaned forward.

"Han didn't mean it meanly," he said. "He was just provoking Bail."

Leia put her mouth in her palm, shrugging.

"I know how Han is," she mumbled neutrally.

"You know he loves you," Luke said pointedly.

Leia rolled her eyes, and lowered her hand.

"Yes, I don't need you to tell me my husband loves me, Luke," she said briskly. "He's rather obvious about it."

"Huh," Leia looked up sharply at the sound, finding Han there suddenly, standing in the doorway. He gave her a somewhat obnoxious look of relief. "Good. Glad you _noticed_."

He stood there a little pointedly, and then slid his hand off the doorframe and gave Luke a nod, tugging at his jacket – he was covered in grease from whatever work he'd been doing with Darred on the speeders. He looked at Leia contemplatively as he tossed his jacket over the back of a chair, arched a brow, and then with a half-wave at Luke, he continued on to the bedroom.

Leia heard the water start running in the 'fresher a moment later, and she turned to Luke, running her fingers through her hair again.

"You ought to –" she started.

"I'm already leaving," Luke agreed quickly, indeed standing up. He nodded down at Leia's lap, at the journal. "Before I go – what part are you at?" he asked.

Leia smiled faintly.

"You act as if it's an action novel," she said. She paused, and looked down at it herself. "Well, Shmi has just met Cliegg Lars," she murmured, "and thinks he's very handsome."

"That's Uncle Owen's father," Luke said proudly.

"She worries that Anakin will be too alone," Leia said quietly.

"I think it's funny that she never mentions Padmé," Luke said. "Sola told me they met on Tatooine, the same time Anakin left with the Jedi."

Leia shrugged a little. Funny, perhaps – but Shmi was not telling Padmé Amidala's story. Leia set the journal aside for the time being, and sat forward, resting her weight on her knees.

"Luke," she prompted, flicking her eyes towards the door.

"Oh, yeah," he said, nodding hastily, pointing towards it. "Goodnight," he said, glancing towards the bedroom door before he bowed out, and Leia got up to shut the door behind him, turning and leaning against it for a moment, _her_ eyes lingering on the bedroom door.

She listened to the running water, Han's words running through her head – _good, glad you noticed._

 _You don't care!_

Her own fanged accusation rang in her ears, and she frowned to herself, and pushed away from the door, reaching up under her blouse and loosening the fasteners of her bra as she walked into the bedroom, and towards the bathroom.

She shed clothing quickly, leaving it carelessly on the floor, stepped into the bathroom, and was still lazily combing out the loose braid her hair had been in when she slipped into the 'fresher with him, shivering a little as the rush of hot steam sent a counterintuitive chill up her spine.

Han, running soapy hands over his face and hair, turned around at the sound of the door _clicking_ open and nearly bumped into her. He shook his head and blinked rapidly, reaching down to take her shoulders. He reached over and shut the 'fresher door back smoothly, running a hand over her back.

"Mmm," he mumbled thoughtfully, as if he hadn't expected her. "Hey, Sweetheart."

Leia slid her arms around him and splayed them against his back, resting her head on his chest. She let the water run for a minute, getting her nice and soaked – and warm – before she answered, in a low, contrite tone –

"Hey."

She pressed a kiss to his chest. Han reached up to rinse soap out of his hair without moving too much, and when his eyes were clear, he tilted her head up and cupped her chin in his hand, looking at her silently. She shifted her head until she could kiss his fingers, shifted it again to kiss his palm.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. She kissed his hand again.

Han said nothing for a moment.

"For what?" he prompted finally, and Leia hesitated, looking up at him. She felt an automatic urge to snap – _you know exactly what; don't make this difficult –_ but she swallowed her pride.

"For saying you don't care," she said. She gave a short sigh. "I know you don't want me to just stay home and…stay home," she said, fading into euphemisms because even now, even _still,_ she didn't want to even remotely go down the same conversational path they had last night.

Han nodded. He said nothing again, thinking about his conversation with Luke earlier, and then he cleared his throat gruffly.

"I forgive you," he said.

Leia nodded. She took a few steps back to give him some space, and leaned against the 'fresher wall, her palms cushioning her lower back. Her hair, dark and matted with the water, hung heavily over her shoulders, and she tilted her head up at him.

"Don't say that to me again, Leia," he said after a moment. He wasn't harsh, he just looked at her seriously, his jaw tight.

She swallowed hard, her chest aching. She nodded again, slowly, taking it to heart – she didn't want to hurt him, and she'd remember, next time – that every time she did, it was only because she was finding a misplaced way to keep herself from getting hurt.

Han ran a hand through his sopping hair and shook it a little. She blinked as the excess water hit her, and looked at him searchingly, asking him to read her, and he scrubbed his hands over his face, rubbing his eyes roughly and stepping out of the spray of water closer to her.

"Did you talk to your old man about what's goin' on with us?" he asked abruptly.

Without hesitating, Leia admitted –

"A little."

"That's not fair," Han said curtly.

"I know," she agreed.

Han looked at her stiffly. Bail had been terse with him today, which wasn't necessarily surprising, if he perceived Leia had been hurting. It was that stiff attitude that alerted Han to the possibility that she'd confided in her father. Leia tilted her head back against the tile of the 'fresher, her eyes drifting upward, and she looked so miserable for a moment, that Han deflated, and stepped closer. He put his hands on her shoulders.

"Leia," he started, and she looked at him, her lips pressing together. "What _is_ going on with us?"

Leia caught her breath. She shook her head.

"You want to start this again?"

"I'm not going to start anything," he growled right back, bristling immediately.

She stared at him.

"You slept on the couch," she accused, her voice soft, almost drowned out by the rushing water.

Han's shoulders dipped, and he silenced any intention he had brewing to push her – she was trying to make amends, and he swallowed his frustration that she so maddeningly wanted to skirt the issue, but maybe here wasn't the place to do it – it was just that he felt the constant uncertainty and tension that seemed to bristle under the surface between them lately, and he hated it. It wasn't getting better; it was getting worse - what was once an every-once-in-a-while flare up had become an issue that infiltrated everything they said and did, and he was at a loss as to why he was being shut out.

He couldn't tell if she was crying; there was too much water on her face. He sighed quietly, leaned forward, and kissed her, his lips moving on hers intently, speaking to her in an ancient language. She slid her hands into his hair and held onto him tightly. Han grasped her hips, held her firmly for a moment, and then lifted her up and braced her into the corner of the 'fresher, hooking his arms under her knees. He pressed his weight against her, holding her up, and she clung to his neck, receptive to the affection. She kissed his jaw, and his throat, and rested her temple against his cheek.

He relaxed, leaning into her, dwelling instead, on something else he'd told Luke earlier – _nothin' we won't get through_ , he'd said, and – _fightin' with your girl; it's like being in hell_. So, if Leia didn't want to fight, they wouldn't fight, even though it left a bad taste in his mouth, this lack of resolution, and even if he knew Leia was internalizing and – something; something was going on with her. It might be just Vader, it might be other things.

"Mmm, Han," Leia murmured, as his lips moved over her neck – brush of his hand against her thigh between them – " _Oh_."

Leia had clearly wanted to let the water wash away the residual tension of last night's anger, and so he relented, too, and focused on loving her, rather than pushing her, even if he had little hope that a heated shower tryst was going to resolve anything at the core.

* * *

 _feedback appreciated, as always!_

 _-alexandra_


	7. Six

_a/n: ah, a family history chapter! at least you didn't have to wait nineteen chapters for it this time, eh?_

* * *

 _ **Six**_

* * *

Leia was, without a doubt, one of the smartest women – if not the smartest _person_ , overall, that Han had ever met, and because she was possessed of such unparalleled intelligence, she could be infinitely frustrating when she was deliberately acting against her own interests.

Deliberately – Han assumed it was deliberate, he read it as deliberate, because otherwise, there was no other explanation for her stubbornly resistant behavior; she was an Ambassador, a diplomat by trade, her middle name was practically _committee_ – and yet she kept looking him dead in the eye and insisting they didn't need to talk right now.

He grit his teeth, worried about her, and frustrated with his own inability to – flesh out what her problem was, or make her feel safe enough to confide in him – and that added another dimension to the thin layer of anxious pique he constantly felt; when had he become someone Leia couldn't open up to?

He didn't know what he was doing that made him unapproachable, particularly when he was making an effort to tell her, point blank, he wanted to talk about it – he couldn't figure that out unless she told him; he was perceptive, but he wasn't Luke, he couldn't read her damn mind. He did understand that they weren't at home, and she had a lot to process here, but she hadn't been allowing the subject at home, either, and it was like he'd snapped at her the other night – _it was going to keep flaring up._

Flare up it did, when Luke told the little boys that Han was going to take them with him to check on the _Falcon_ – which of course sent them ballistic with glee, and sent their sister into a mire of uncertainty – she wanted to _go_ , but she wanted to sit with _Leia_ , too, and be a _big_ girl, will Princess Leia _please_ come too –

"You know, you three can kiss up to the Solos all you want," Whyler had said, amused, "but they ain't gonna take you home. You still have to live with me and Mami."

Ryoo pinched his shoulder angrily, told Han he didn't have to entertain her kids or watch them, asked Maiah to let Leia breathe – and Han saw the tense look on Leia's face, reading her struggle with the situation; Han had made it seem like she either didn't want to be around the kids, or had trouble being around the kids, and it clearly had made Ryoo self-conscious about how fascinated the little ones were with the visitors.

In the end, Whyler said he'd go down to the _Falcon_ to make sure the kids behaved, so it wasn't all on Luke and Han, and Pooja asked for Leia's help on a contentious political issue, so Maiah was free to go with the boys without feeling deprived of time spent with a real, living Princess.

Han had left the house with Maiah on his hip – Whyler took Iver; climbing down the cliffs to the pier was too dangerous for the five-year-olds – and somehow, _somehow_ , Leia managed to look both irritated by it, and admiring, and Han wanted to abandon the field trip to the _Falcon_ , drag her down to the ship instead, and have it out with her –

It was almost like she viewed his interaction with the kids as a targeted attack on her, and he wanted to shout – _what do you want me to do, Your Worship, be an asshole to some little kids?_ And then, a little vindictive part of him thought maybe he was interacting with the kids more than he'd generally be inclined to – after all, he was never around kids, and he had never had a burning desire to be, previously – but something had to give, at some point, and he was at a loss.

He'd gone from thinking, with a sinking feeling he'd never anticipated he'd have, that she hated the idea of having any – brought on by her nasty reaction to the mere possibility of it – to thinking that she did want them, she just – he didn't know. He didn't know where her head was. He was frustrated. There were plenty of times in the past he'd felt like he wasn't doing enough, like he was coming up short of what Leia desperately needed, but for once, he cast more blame on her than on himself.

Living like this was absurd, loving each other, and knowing they wanted each other, and wanted to be happy, and burying a contentious issue, was ridiculous – he felt damn near like he had on Hoth, when their relationship was always balancing on an edge – when they knew they were more than friends but they hadn't been able to take that step, yet, and it was anyone's guess if it would be a _good_ Han and Leia day, or a _bad_ Han and Leia day.

He wasn't unhappy with her. He just didn't have any interest in the Han and Leia they had been on Hoth. He wanted his marriage back.

He ran a hand over his forehead roughly and leaned back in his pilot's chair, swiveling a little.

He listened to a shriek, Whyler shouting something sharply, and then Luke appeared, wincing.

"Maiah went into the bunkroom anyway," he said.

Han groaned a little, shrugging. He probably should have master-locked the door from the cockpit, but he didn't have much experience with how defiant very small children could be.

"Whyler's scolding her," Luke advised.

"Ahh, it doesn't matter," Han said. "There's nothin' weird in there. Leia's just fussy about people in her bedroom."

Luke gave Han a baleful glare.

"Nothing _weird_? I found lingerie stockings in the gun _turret_ once – "

Han leaned back, putting his hands behind his head, and shrugged, grinning.

"That ain't weird, kid, it's just a costume," he retorted, and Luke scowled at him. "'Sides," Han advised dryly, "my ship's gotten _real_ tidy and organized since I got married."

Whyler appeared in the doorway, rubbing his jaw.

"Sorry about that, man," he muttered. "I thought she was watching the boys play Dejarik."

Han shrugged again, and Maiah appeared around Whyler's legs, peeking at Han regretfully. She inched around her father, and held up a wilting circlet of flowers, smiling, even though she clearly was wary of getting reprimanded again.

"Princess Leia kept my flow'r bracelet!" she announced, beaming.

Maiah was the only family member who persistently used the royal title. She was, as Ryoo had said, delighted with the idea of a princess, rather than worried about disrespect or formality.

Han nodded.

"'Course she did," he said immediately. "She thought it was real pretty."

The last time he'd come down to check on the ship, Leia had asked him to take it down and press it in between two data pads, which she said was a way of preserving flowers. Han was actually kind of glad Maiah had popped into the bunkroom and found it - he'd, ah, forgotten to do the pressing part.

Maiah bounced up and down on her feet.

"I'm gonna make her more," she said. She darted forward and placed the bracelet on Han's lap. "Nice ones. New flowers," she said. " _You_ can have that one," she told him blithely.

She hopped back and watched Han expectantly. He smiled at her, and then realized she was waiting for him to put the bracelet on. He did so, holding up his wrist solemnly.

Maiah gasped with delight and turned, taking off towards the main hold.

"She's going to tell everyone you wore that," Luke said.

"So?" Han retorted. He shook his wrist at Luke defiantly.

Whyler snorted.

"Good attitude," he said dryly. "You ever have girls, it'll amaze you how much flower jewelry you have to wear."

Han was noticeably silent, and Whyler leaned against the doorway.

"It's like standin' in a piece of history," he muttered, eyeing the interior of the cockpit, particularly anything that was obviously modified.

Han made a face. The kids treating him like some action star from a Holo film was weird enough, but the _Falcon_? History? The _Falcon_ was just his – well, pride and joy, but – busted old ship!

"You know they'll come knockin' for it," Whyler said dryly. "When everything settles down even more, and people start doin' museums and docu-Holos and all that, on the Rebellion era? They'll pay through the nose for this ship."

Han arched an eyebrow.

"They'll try," he snorted.

"Yeah, I doubt they'd get their hands on this one," Luke said shortly. "They'd have to pry it from Han's cold, dead hands."

"And I'm gonna live forever," Han muttered darkly, brooding over the idea of the Falcon in anyone else's possession. He didn't even like remembering that Lando had assumed proxy ownership of it while he was in carbonite. The only thing that assuaged his annoyance about that unfortunate time period was the fact that Chewie had remained the stalwart co-pilot, not to mention the Wookiee had assured Han that whenever Leia flew with them, he made Lando let her captain it.

Maiah came back in a few moments later, tugging on Luke's hand.

"Mister Sky Luke," she said, completely fumbling what her parents had told her to call him. "The boys won't let me play with them." She puckered her lips. "Can you hit them with your laser sword?"

Han laughed.

"Well, I won't _hit_ them," Luke said hastily. "I can go talk to them."

Whyler turned his head.

"Indy," he barked, apparently knowing, without asking, who the problem was. "Maiah's turn to play."

There was a scuffling noise, and Luke crouched down and held his hands out to Maiah.

"C'mon, let's go," he said, "maybe we can play two to a team," he suggested brightly.

Maiah happily let him pick her up, and they went towards the main hold – moments later, Indy appeared, an annoyed look on his face.

"She doesn't _know_ how to play," he said, kicking his boot against the floor.

"And you could have offered to teach her, instead of cutting her out," Whyler reported. "You're the oldest. You're supposed to include, not exclude."

Indy sat down in one of the open chairs and rolled his eyes, but he said nothing. He slumped down and looked at Han.

"Is that one compartment where the giant hammock is where your Wookiee sleeps?" he asked. "Iver wanted to know but he was afraid to ask."

Han nodded.

"Yeah, that's Chewbacca's bunk," he said, "but he's not _my_ Wookiee."

"But he's always with you," Indy said.

"Han means Chewbacca isn't a pet," Whyler said. "He's not a slave or a servant."

"Oh, okay," Indy said seriously. "I thought he owed you his life, though," he said. "That's what one of the Holos said."

Han waved his hand.

"See, I got 'im out of a tight spot," he said gruffly, "and for Wookiees, that means you got to follow the guy who helped you around for the rest of his damn life, and yell at him and act like a huge, furry conscience."

Whyler snorted at the unique description of a Life Debt, and Indy stared at Han.

"You said a bad word," he told him bluntly.

Han blinked sheepishly.

"My mom said a bad word once," Indy went on seriously. "Then she yelled at _me_ for it."

Whyler laughed again.

"You drove her to it, son," he joked.

"Women are strange creatures, kid," Han advised.

Whyler pointed at Indy seriously.

"But always right, and don't you forget it," he warned.

Indy swung his legs in the chair.

"Dad, do I really have to go to bed early tonight?" he whined, tilting his head up.

"Hey, remember how we talked about phrasing? You're not going to bed early, you're being trusted to watch your siblings upstairs, in their room, with a holo to distract them, because you're a responsible man of the house – "

Han grinned at the withering look on the kid's face, and Whyler folded his arms, nodding.

"Yeah, you do," he said. "It's one night, buddy. The adults want to talk."

"I can talk," Indy pointed out.

"The adults want to drink, too," Whyler retorted.

"I can drink!" Indy protested.

"Alcohol," Whyler clarified.

"Aunt Pooja let me have a tiny sip of her whiskey last Festival week," Indy fired back.

"Well, we'll just throttle Aunt Pooja later," Whyler said dryly, narrowing his eyes. "Argument's over, Indy. It's _one_ night out of two weeks."

Indy looked at Han dramatically, as if Han could help, and Han held out his hands, shrugging – it wasn't his decision.

"You get to go on the hunt though, eh?" Whyler reminded him. "Your mother said Han could show you how to work a blaster."

Indy perked up.

"Yeah, that's cool," he agreed eagerly. He sat forward. "I can't wait to tell the girls back at my academy," he said smugly.

Whyler leaned over and ruffled his hair, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, lady killer," he snorted. "Go play teams in Dejarik, sound good? Finish up a game – we can't take over Han's ship all day."

Indy got up and dashed into the main hold, and Han shrugged.

"S'not a problem," he said. He glanced after the kid, and laughed shortly. "Luke's right, I never have a problem braggin' about the old girl."

"Well, thanks," Whyler said. "You sure as hell made their year – Maiah and Iver are too young to remember much of anything about the war, but Indy followed _everything_."

Han shrugged again – he'd given the kids a full tour earlier, after he checked things with hangar management and did a quick run through by himself to make sure everything was safe. The twins had just been thrilled to be on a ship; Indy had gotten the most out of it.

"Hey, Han," Whyler said, clearing his throat abruptly. "Look, uh…Ryoo and I, we're pretty practical about our kids," he said. "She wants things to go really well with Luke and Leia so, you've got to tell us," he paused, and gestured between them, "well, you've got to tell me, so I can get Ryoo to calm the fuck down," he said dryly, with a tone that implied – _you have a wife, you get this, right?_ – "if they're too much at one time," he said. "Ryoo's afraid they're bothering Leia."

Han grit his teeth uncomfortably. He started to shrug it off and say – _No, Leia likes kids_ – except he bit his tongue, because he was once again reminded that he didn't know what was going on with Leia in that department.

"I'm not really necessary to any re-hash of the past," Whyler said frankly, "so it'd be easy for me to take the three of 'em back to our place near Theed if she's, uh, dealin' with something."

Han blinked. He shook his head – the guy had good intentions, but Han was immediately on edge.

"Nah," he said finally. "Don't do that. It's got nothin' to do with them," Han said.

He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and shrugging.

"Hell, tell Ryoo not to blame herself 'cause I pissed off my wife," he said dryly, wincing over the memory of how he'd jumped down Leia's throat. He hesitated, and then he frowned, and waved one hand stiffly. "She's not – there's not, ahh," he fumbled.

"I'm not snooping," Whyler said flatly. "I don't expect you to tell me anything about your personal life. Ryoo only worried because she remembered the Media was speculating that Leia was pregnant, and she thought – "

"All that's bullshit," Han said flatly, scowling at the thought of all the Coruscant gossip rags and relentless discussion. He rolled his eyes – that fodder was always sending Leia up the wall with anxiety, too, even if she carefully tried to hide it. He gave Whyler a pointed look, squeamish, almost, about mentioning anything about his and Leia's private life. He didn't want Ryoo and her whole family thinking Leia was in some storm of anguish about –

"She's _never_ been pregnant," Han said pointedly, figuring that got the point across; he said it because he was pretty sure Leia didn't want anyone thinking it, either; Leia didn't want anyone bringing up children around her _at all._

"Well, that's what I figured," Whyler said bluntly. "Tried to get that through Ryoo's head. I figured you wouldn't have said what'cha did if somethin' bad had happened."

Han grimaced darkly at the reminder.

Whyler shrugged.

"It's not like I never said anything idiotic to my wife," he muttered without judgement. "Like I said, 'M not trying to get in your business," he asserted gruffly. "There's just a lot of potential for tension simmerin' already, and nothin' needs to be adding to it."

"You got that right," Han said dryly.

"Reckon I don't have to explain to you what it's like to marry into these powerful families," Whyler snorted.

Han sat back a little stiffly, rubbing his jaw, and thinking about it – he shook his head, brow raised, in agreement; in Leia, he had at first only found himself in love with a woman who bore a powerful name and position; the powerful family had come later – first in the Organas re-appearance, and then the discovery of the Naberries.

Han narrowed his eyes a little, silent – he remained reserved, careful not to let the conversation go anywhere else. It was fair of Whyler to sort of step up and demand to know how he and Ryoo should proceed, but Han felt a bristle of annoyance at Leia again – if they'd just talked about this months ago, when it happened, and it triggered something for her, it was unlikely there'd be all this awkward complexity _now_ , when she was trying to handle the biggest dark shadow in her life.

Han squashed the flicker of irritation, though; he didn't want it needling him all afternoon and lingering when they were back up at Varykino for the evening; he forced himself back into a place of controlled patience. He had to believe Leia would come to him – she would, or he'd lose his patience, and he'd force the conversation, eventually, because he wasn't as beholden to arrogance and pride as he had been when she fighting her feelings back on Hoth; he no longer cared about _waiting_ her out, and winning the stand-off, he cared about _hearing_ her out. There was a fine line between giving her space, and becoming complacent in the breakdown of their communication, and he made a promise to himself - and to her, even if she didn't know it - that he wouldn't let that happen.

* * *

The evening's dinner was to take place in a spacious, open-air rotunda whimsically called the _Room of Morning Mists._ Sola told them it got its name from the line of a poem that a famed Nubian artist had composed sitting by one of the intricately carved open windows, long before the Naberries had purchased the property.

"It seems overly formal," Jobal fretted, "but it's such a beautiful space, and it was Padmé's favorite room here, as far as public spaces went – "

Bail and Leia both assured her that the appearance of formality could be easily ignored and besides; it allowed for a large, round-table discussion due to its design –

"And easy escape," Han noted dryly, pointing around to all the open archways that led both into the house, and out onto porches and sprawling Varykino property.

"Thank you for your positivity," Bail told him sharply, and Leia gave Han a mildly tart look.

She sat next to him at dinner, though, inching her chair a little closer than it had originally been placed. Luke took the seat opposite her, and Bail sat at her other side, so Leia felt fortified, and found it easy to glance at her brother for support.

Pooja sat next to Luke, already chattering away with him – close, fast friends, those two; or rather, cousins – and the others fell in where they fell in, with Ruwee and Jobal sitting opposite each other at either end of the oval dining table.

"I finally," Jobal said with a sign, passing around a bottle of aged shurra wine, "prevailed upon Ruwee to pull the remaining trunk of Padmé's things out of one of the attics," she said.

They were well past the second course, with dessert heating in the kitchen, and after-dinner wine available to hold the palate over until then.

"I think Whyler is still working with him to recover holos from our more damaged old records," she added.

Whyler cleared his throat skeptically.

"Those were damaged pretty bad. I won't recover any audio," he said flatly. "The original negatives aren't such a mess, though. Whoever scrubbed the hard drives did a good job, but not perfect."

"That would be the Empire," Ruwee said flatly. "They weren't quite organized, at the time. Still snatching power and coalescing," he explained. "The clones that tore through the house in Theed were clumsy. Still glitching. Not sure who their ultimate commander was."

Luke refused the wine bottle when it got to him, and reached for a decanter of sparkling water instead, refilling his glass. He turned to Ruwee with rapt interest.

"Yes, you _mentioned_ the ransack of your properties," he said. "I think Jobal talked more about it with Bail, but Leia isn't up to speed – so, Anakin Skywalker visited you, looking for my mother's things?"

Ruwee, his jaw set, tilted his head a little, and he, too, refused the wine bottle when it got to him, passing it easily to Ryoo – who accepted.

"Darth Vader," he said clearly, and Leia felt a tiny bit of connection with Ruwee, for making that pointed correction, "as he introduced himself when he stormed in and petrified my family," Ruwee said coolly, "took what he could identify as Padmé's."

Luke nodded, sitting back respectfully.

"Did he hurt anyone?" Luke asked.

"He intimidated and intended to frighten, but caused no physical harm," Ruwee said. "No one had yet come to know Vader as _Vader_ at that point, mere days after the Republic fell. The Jedi were dying, there was chaos _everywhere_ ," he explained, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. "He asked us to confirm Padmé's death," Ruwee noted heavily, and then nodded at Luke and Leia respectively, "and yours," he added.

"And you knew," Luke ventured hesitantly, "you knew – who he was?"

"Not at first," Jobal said quietly.

Ruwee was quiet for a moment.

"I knew," he allowed. "I came to understand. There was no identifying him, no looking into his eyes and physically recognizing him – and his voice was, distorted, of course, unidentifiable - but he spoke of her like he knew her, not like an enforcer who had been sent to rub our noses in it," he reflected, his tone still stiff, "for hell's sake, he knew which things of hers to take – and he asked to see her grave."

Ruwee paused.

"He did not ask – _where is she buried?_ " he quoted quietly, "he asked _– have you laid her to rest at Varykino?"_

Luke was silent, and Leia sat forward, reaching for her glass.

"That lacks logic," she said, neutral. "Why would he come to you? Risk revealing his true identity in that way? He had already turned," she said edgily.

There was another stretch of silence, and then Jobal said, hesitantly – almost as if she didn't want to offend Leia –

"The man I knew loved Padmé," she said. "I have to believe her death hurt him, regardless of what he had chosen then."

"I do not think the Empire cared about hiding what had become of Anakin Skywalker," Ruwee said flatly. "The way I see it, Palpatine would have taken violent pleasure in the glory of turning the Jedi's brightest leader to the Sith; it was ideological triumph in the highest degree – "

"And would have been a significant political victory," Pooja noted thoughtfully, "if uncertain citizens could be told – well, the great war hero Anakin Skywalker sees no harm in it – "

"Yes; Sheev was a vile genius," Ruwee said harshly. " _Darth Vader_ is the one who destroyed the records of the Jedi, and of whom he once was," he asserted – and Leia and Luke too, were unsure if he truly knew that's what had happened, or sensed it, and believed it. "The Jedi who weren't killed in the Clone purge, he hunted down personally."

Luke folded his arms across his chest, looking at Ruwee carefully.

"That's interesting to think about," he said slowly. "It sounds as if…Vader went to great lengths to obliterate the man he used to be, and everything that tied him to it."

"Well, if the Empire's hatred of my sister was political, Ani's – ah, Vader's – was personal, then," Sola said heavily. "Though I can't – wrap my head around Ani becoming Vader or – Ani _ever_ hating Padmé."

She shared a look with her mother.

"I mean, you remember the way he worshipped her," she said.

"Like she was the sun and he was only grass," Jobal agreed, smiling a little.

Ruwee shifted utensils onto his plate loudly.

"Obsession," he said flatly. "It was a dangerous mix of obsession and love."

"Ruwee," Jobal said, leaning on her arm lightly. "You liked Anakin."

Ruwee looked at his wife for a moment, and said nothing.

"What I don't understand," Ryoo spoke up quietly, "is what – happened? What _happened_? Mami is right – Uncle Ani, he was sweet on Padmé to the core, and she loved him – Bail?" Ryoo asked. "You were in the middle of it when the Republic was falling apart."

"I knew that Anakin had turned, I didn't know what the impetus was," Bail said honestly. "And I know that – Padmé was never in it with him; from what Ben Kenobi told me, she fought tooth and nail to drag him _back_ from that darkness," he sighed, shaking his head.

"Anakin was always at odds with the ancient tenants of the Jedi council," Ruwee said.

"He was always a favorite of Palpatine's, back when he was Chancellor," Sola noted. "That man…had a slithering knack with people – "

"And he was a Sith lord," Bail said bitterly. "It's likely he preyed on Anakin's discontent."

"I always thought it was cruel that the Jedi were asked not to love," Jobal remarked sadly. "He and Padmé had to have felt such guilt just for the quiet secrecy of an attachment."

"Jobal, the Jedi were not forbidden love, they were forbidden _selfish_ attachment," Ruwee said shortly. "Marriage, and children – those things were disallowed because they engendered a hierarchical sense of life in the mind of a person – one cannot selflessly serve a galaxy of citizens equally if one values the life of a certain family over everyone else."

"But Bail, _you_ said it came down to violence between Ani and Padmé," Sola said, turning to the Viceroy. "And if Anakin was persuaded to defy the Jedi because they sought to keep him from her, then why - ?"

"You're asking me questions I cannot answer," Bail said. "I wasn't inside his head. I was on _Padmé's_ side," he insisted. "Anakin's intentions were probably polluted and twisted by the Emperor – "

"He was forced, then; the Dark Side enslaved him," Ryoo said.

"No," Luke said quietly. "The Dark Side is a choice."

"Power," Leia said abruptly, and Han jumped, because she'd been sitting next to him so silently, listening, and watching, that her voice sounded loud, and startled him.

Those present fell silent, and looked at her. Leia took a quiet breath, calming herself.

"He wanted power, for the sake of love, and when that failed, he chose the love of power," she said simply.

Luke sat forward, fascinated.

"How can you know that?"

"I think it's a deduction that could be made by amalgamating the factors we're discussion – a clandestine marriage, the choice between personal happiness and public duty, spirituality, and concepts of controlling the unseen," Leia said, level, and looked back at Luke –

"That _isn't_ how you're deducing it," he accused.

"I felt it last year," Leia said flatly.

"When we meditated?" Luke asked.

"You kept the Dark Side away from me," Leia answered, acknowledging tacitly that she was indeed talking about their scene in the Jedi Temple.

"You never mentioned what it tempted you with," Luke said. "Something, that left you with a capacity to understand – "

"Alderaan," Leia said curtly. "It asked me what I would do to save Alderaan."

She heard her father take in his breath sharply, and she looked at Luke earnestly for a moment longer – and flushed, and turned away, feeling a little drained. Han leaned back in his chair and casually threw his arm over the back of hers – and she felt his fingers slip into her hair, brushing her neck, and she relaxed, breathing out slowly.

She looked around at the Naberries –

"I'm not a Sith," she said, the words surprising even her – she said it almost jokingly, but she was suddenly petrified of what they'd think of her. "I don't practice use of the Force."

Pooja made a squeaking noise.

"Lord of _Theed_ , no one thinks you're a _Sith_!" she squawked, appalled.

"Leia, we're all trying to understand," Jobal said kindly. "Don't withhold your insight because you think we'll associate you with things Darth Vader did."

Han tugged on her hair gently, subtly, as if to whisper _– I told you so._ He'd said before – no one could know her, even know of her, and think there was any comparison –

"Okay," Leia said hoarsely, after a moment. "It appears to me, then," she said, looking between Jobal, Sola, and Ruwee – and even her father, briefly, "and I didn't know her, so correct me if I am wrong – that Anakin Skywalker cared about _nothing_ if he couldn't have her, which is a dangerous way to live, and Padmé refused to sacrifice her moral beliefs, even for love."

Sola leaned forward and pointed at Leia sharply.

"That sounds _exactly_ like my sister," she said firmly. "Don't get me wrong, I don't fault Ani for how much he loved the people he loved, but Padmé believed in faith, and building things for others, and sacrifice, and Ani was pure passion. The Jedi didn't do him any good, preaching their repressed feelings doctrine."

Sola turned to Luke, picked up her wine glass, and toasted him politely.

"You're a lovely Jedi, Luke, please take no offense."

He smiled a little wryly, and nodded.

"This can't all be blamed on the Jedi," Ruwee defended abruptly. He held out his hand to Bail. "Bail, of all people, can tell you the bulk of Jedi were good people, hallowed, respected people – if Anakin disagreed with their doctrine, he could have broken with the order – "

"Ani loved the Jedi," Jobal placated gently.

"Jo, he destroyed them!" Ruwee snapped, his voice rising.

Jobal placed her hand near his, and Whyler scooted his chair back, placing a kiss to his Ryoo's head – neither he nor Darred had said much throughout dinner, and they seemed to think it was their place to sit quietly, now.

"'M goin' to check on the kids," Whyler muttered – the twins should be asleep by now, after the Holo film Indy had watched with them, and Indy should still be supervising.

"I don't know what tipped him over the edge," Ruwee said suddenly, curtly, "I think it was brewing – I think what Vader became, over the years, was so mutant and so purely antithetical to the Anakin we knew that it's beyond comprehension – he choked the man he was, and caged him and you, Luke, you say you saw that man again – he was even there in the aftermath of the fall."

Ruwee rubbed his jaw tightly.

"Anakin was still struggling, when he came to us, or he'd have killed us all without blinking," Ruwee said – and Leia turned to look at her father, because she'd wondered the same thing – _why aren't all the Naberries dead?_

"Whatever happened, in those last moments, those last days - with Padmé, or the Jedi, or the Chancellor – it ruined him, and it terrified Padmé," he said harshly, "the last time I ever heard from her, last time I heard her voice, she told me she was coming home _– 'I think I lost Anakin, Papa,'_ she said. The next I heard of it," he pointed at Bail, "you were telling me she died in a confrontation with the rogue Clones, and Anakin was all but _dead_ on Mustafar."

Ruwee's face darkened angrily.

"And when Vader ransacked my home and I realized who he was, I should have known you were lying, but I suppose I had no reason to believe you were already running some scheme with Kenobi."

Pooja cleared her throat quickly. She gave Luke a look, and then reached over her sister to touch her father's arm.

"Papa, easy, we'll have dessert, another bottle of wine," she suggested. "Calm down," she said, holding up a hand. "We're all just supposed to talk."

"About Padmé," Jobal prompted serenely, tense, though remaining calm.

Pooja and Darred got up to fetch dessert, and Leia leaned forward to pick her glass up, pausing to brush her fingers along her forehead. Han let his hand fall to her lower back, and Bail cleared his throat.

"Leia, are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded, and took a sip of wine, looking up. She cleared her throat.

"I…understand," she began quietly, "how she must have felt."

She turned to look at Ruwee, hoping her words might – help, or calm him down.

"Padmé," she clarified. "When she realized…she lost him."

Leia sat back a little, compressing her lips for a moment.

"It's almost like – the reverse of what Luke and I contend with," she said, as level as possible. "Finding out that Vader…used to be beloved."

Padmé, though, Padmé had suffered the horror of finding out what her beloved had become.

"Me, too," Ryoo said suddenly, and she sat back in her chair as Whyler returned – and soon, after him, were Darred and Pooja with more drinks, and a plate of treacle tarts – passing them around, settling the bad mood that had flared.

"He was Uncle _Ani_ ," she said, exasperated, holding her hand out in disbelief. She gestured at Pooja. "Pooja can tell you as well as I can. Oh, lord, we loved him. He was so silly."

Pooja nodded, uncorking the bottle and pouring herself another glass of wine.

"He visited here all the time," Pooja confirmed.

"He used to play ball in the yard with me, and he always let me win," Ryoo said. "It's so incongruous, thinking of the man in that black mask as the man who braided my hair – "

"Oh, the worst braids I'd ever seen," Sola said smartly. "Incongruous," she murmured. "It's a good word."

Pooja cleared her throat, nodding.

"I, for one," she said dryly, "can't believe Darth Vader had sex in this house."

Jobal gave her a startled look, sitting up straighter.

"Pooja," snapped Sola, an annoyed look crossing her face.

Luke winced, while a sort of awkward, contentious silence fell – but it was Leia, Leia, of all people there – who started laughing.

Han gave her a look like he was dryly concerned she had gone insane, and Leia leaned forward, reaching for her glass again and bowing her head, struggling with her laughter. Luke stared at her, alarmed, and then looked at Bail dubiously – Leia was…Leia was sitting at the table, laughing over…Darth Vader? She pulled her glass close to her chest and sat back, her shoulders hitting against the chair easily.

She lifted her head, her face flushed.

"It's," she gasped, struggling to catch her breath. "It sounds so – _human_ ," she choked out – _incongruous_ was right. "It's so normal," Leia laughed.

Pooja, who had sought to somehow ease everyone's tension by stating the most inappropriate thing she could come up with, felt a massive rush of relief.

Han gave her a look, and then shrugged at Luke – either she was having a stroke, or she was coping okay, he figured there wasn't much of an in-between.

"Isn't it?" Pooja demanded, widening her eyes in disbelief. She held out her hand.

Luke glared at Pooja mildly.

"Well, actually, he hadn't turned yet, when he was staying here, so he was still Anakin – "

"It's not as funny that way," Pooja retorted, cutting him off.

Leia put her hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter, and Luke bowed his head.

"Leia, you've got to be kidding me," he griped, shaking his head good-naturedly. "All I had to do to get you to realize the human side of Vader is mention that he probably had sex?"

Ryoo sat forward sharply.

"Do you think he ever did, after the suit?" she asked seriously. She scrunched her nose.

"Think about the heavy breathing," Whyler added.

"He'd have to keep the mask on," Pooja said.

"That's my father you're talking about," Luke griped, making a face.

" _He's_ my father," Leia said, flinging her hand at Bail and giving Luke a prim look.

"Well, what if I started cracking jokes about his sex life?" Luke retorted.

Bail cleared his throat, his face turning red, and Leia gave Luke a horrified look.

Ryoo tilted her head back, amused.

"I wonder what Vader's type was," she giggled.

"Girls," Sola started sharply. "Enough."

"Who would go home with Darth Vader, though?" Pooja asked, ignoring her mother.

Han shot a look at Bail, and he looked appalled, caught somewhere between desperately horrified he'd ever found himself in this conversation, and relieved that Leia was getting on so well with her brother and cousins.

"I can't stop thinking about it now," Pooja said, laughing, "I'm never having sex here again."

"Pooja!" barked Darred.

"Oh – I mean, I've never had sex, in my life, Papa," she said.

"Alright, _alright_ ," Jobal raised her hand, and her voice, looking half-amused, and half uncomfortable. "You succeeded, Pooja – we've lightened up."

Pooja's smile softened, and Ryoo sat back, scooting her chair over and nestling onto Whyler's side.

"Kids okay?" she asked.

He nodded, and put his arm around her lazily. Sola sighed, shooting menacing glances at both of her kids, and then put a hand on Darred's shoulder.

"Pooja's only kidding," she soothed, and then glared at her youngest. "Why give your father nightmares?" she demanded.

Pooja rolled her eyes.

"I live on _Coruscant."_

"Your mother thought you were seeing Luke," Bail said suddenly, giving her a sharp, fatherly look – Pooja looked taken aback, and flushed - the fun was instantly taken out of her teasing her parents.

Han laughed, targeting Luke immediately.

"Hey, kid, you've got a type – blood relatives."

Leia kicked the back of Han's ankle and he bent down to push her foot away, running his knuckles over the sore spot with a scowl.

"Do we want to hear that story?" Whyler asked.

"No," Leia said coolly, leaning forward and resting her weight on her elbows. "We're talking about Anakin and Padmé."

Luke nodded, Han straightened up – and Jobal sat forward, her face shining.

"I can talk about Padmé effortlessly," she said. She clasped her hands together. "She would have been so proud of you, Leia – and you, Luke; the both of you. You're _everything_ she believed in."

Luke beamed, hanging on the praise.

"Bail told us a little about her – you're her family, though – was she really queen of Naboo at fourteen?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," Jobal said. "Our culture values women as having innate sensitivity and connection to emotion, and it's considered to be purest in youth – young girls are often groomed as leaders. She was, let's see – Princess of Theed, and _then_ elected Queen."

She nodded at her husband.

"Ruwee was more of a mentor to her on the political side, they had the same way of thinking about justice and faith," she explained.

Luke still hung on his grandmother's words, but Leia looked to Ruwee – and noticed he looked bitter, at those words; regretful, even.

"She really thrived as a Senator, though," Sola spoke up. "Leading Naboo only gave her a taste of the kind of work she could do for the whole galaxy."

"Oh, Padmé was a force," Darred said firmly, and then grinned, nodding at Luke. "Not your kind, though the idea of Mé-Mé with a lightsaber is almost as frightening as you," he nodded at Leia, "with one," he complimented.

Han smirked proudly.

"I remember meeting her for the first time, she was just a little thing, already Princess of Theed," Darred reflected, "and she said to me –'Well, Mr. Janren, if you marry my sister, you'll have to be a Naberrie; how do you like that?'" Darred shrugged. "I guess I liked it okay."

"So, my mother didn't change her name?" Luke guessed. "When she married Anakin."

"I don't know what Padme would have wanted in that respect," Sola said, "but it's a moot point. Clandestine marriage and all."

Luke flushed – of course.

"I expect she'd have done something like your sister here," Darred said, pointing to Leia. "Hyphenated."

Leia cleared her throat.

"My name is not hyphenated," she said simply.

"Is it not?" Jobal asked, surprised though not harshly so.

Leia shook her head.

"They still call you Ambassador Organa publicly," Sola noted.

"That name has its power," Leia agreed. "However, legally, my surname is Solo. I kept Organa as a second middle name, in addition," she nodded respectfully at Ruwee and Jobal, "to _Amidala_."

"I like it," Pooja said cozily. "It's like you kept everything that means something to you."

"Except Skywalker," Ruwee noted pointedly.

Han gave him as sort of a tense look, but Leia just inclined her head calmly.

"Luke handles that one better than I do," she said vaguely. "I would prefer to be associated with your daughter."

Jobal beamed, and turned to Bail.

"It means a lot that you gave her that name," she said. "It's so beautiful – I hope you like it, Leia. Padmé chose to go by it when she was Queen. It was her regnal name."

"I was told," Leia said warmly, nodding at her father.

She hesitated, and then she sat forward, placing her wine glass down.

"Father represented her to me…with a lot of reverence," she said. "The concept of…sharing a bloodline with Darth Vader is repulsive, but what Father has told me about _Padmé_ makes it easier than you know."

"You certainly make me think of her," Jobal said, and Sola nodded.

"I can't tell you how fiercely delighted Padmé would be to know her children so embodied the kind of ideals she died for," Sola said. "Leia, your political similarities to her are obvious and Luke, your sense of always fighting for the innocence and good of the world even when you've faced the worst of it – it's very healing to be introduced to the two of you and have no reservations about what Padmé would think."

"Well, Leia, at least, was raised to finish Padmé's work," Ruwee said curtly. He nodded at Bail. "You set her on that path from day one – I presume Obi-Wan did the same with Luke."

Bail grit his teeth.

"I kept Leia safe," he said. "I did not force her – "

"You put a crown on her," Ruwee interrupted. "You put her in direct danger."

Leia winced, and saw the guilt that flooded her father's face. Luke held out his hand soothingly.

"Those involved acted with the best intentions," he said. He turned to Ruwee quietly.

Ruwee gave him a stiff look.

"You both ought to have been left in peace, with us," he said flatly, finally putting it out there bluntly, for all to hear. "You've both had to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders and you should have been allowed to be children."

Luke and Leia were silent, and then Leia said, carefully –

"We made our own choices, when they were given to us."

She sat forward to look at Ruwee, and he focused on her.

"You are like her," he agreed. "Like Padmé," he went on. "You're an acutely smart woman, Leia," he said searchingly.

"Thank you," she accepted warily.

"Gran-Papa, _don't_ ," Pooja snapped suddenly.

"You have intentions here that aren't purely about getting to know us," Ruwee said flatly, ignoring his granddaughter, and speaking directly to Leia.

Leia did not break eye contact. She compressed her lips, and after a moment, took a deep breath.

"You'll run for Chief of State in one of the coming cycles," Ruwee said.

Pooja looked surprised, and Leia inclined her head. She glanced over at Jobal, and then Sola, and cleared her throat quietly.

"You wouldn't put yourself up for the highest office in the Republic without publicly announcing that you are who you are."

Leia nodded again.

"No, I would not," she agreed.

She sensed a kind of quiet awe around the table, and Ruwee shook his head at her.

"When were you going to tell us you plan to tell the galaxy our private family tragedy?"

Leia did look taken aback at that.

"Ruwee, that isn't fair," Bail said, speaking up calmly. "Leia had no intention – "

"I can speak for myself," Leia said calmly. "Tell you?" she asked.

She looked away from Ruwee – she felt exposed, and she felt like he made her sound criminal, conniving, heartless, and evil – and she wanted the Naberries to like her, and she reminded herself that Ruwee was a grieving man, had been a grieving man for years, and perhaps it was easier for him to be at odds with Luke, and with Leia, than it was for him to mourn his daughter, and mourn the twenty odd years he'd lost with her children.

Leia looked at Jobal, and Sola – and Ryoo, and Pooja, and Darred and Whyler, too, because though they'd been married into it, they were a part of it – and would be affected.

"I didn't intend to _tell_ you," she said quietly, opening her mouth to continue - though she was cut off.

"Of course," Jobal said softly. "Leia," she started earnestly, and trailed off, unsure of what to say. "Ruwee, this was the wrong place for this," she said finally. "You've ambushed her."

"I'm used to ambushes," Leia said flatly.

Luke looked over at Han, who glanced back at him a little vaguely – he was half-listening, alternately lulled into a sense of boredom by family talk that wasn't all too interesting to him, and moments of alertness that made him worry for Leia.

"Padmé would have done that," Pooja said suddenly. "Gran-Papa told me you must have an interest in revealing it – she would have," Pooja insisted. "She always said there was no such thing as a free government without the truth. _Secrecy breeds tyranny."_

Ruwee sat back, rubbing his jaw.

"Yes, that sounds exactly like your aunt," he said, almost acridly. "She had such a capacity to care about the world, and the strangers in it, and what was good for them - she hardly seemed to think for her own life," he said, anger tinging his voice, "or how we would suffer when she was hurt, or her life was taken."

Leia tilted her head thoughtfully.

"That is a rare kind of nobility, don't you think?" she asked. "She saw herself with the same eyes she saw everyone else. She treated herself with the same level of respect she wanted for the world, not valuing her life, or her comfort, over any other person's."

Leia felt awed thinking about it – she didn't even think she had that courage. She certainly, _easily,_ value Han's life, or Luke's life, over any stranger's.

"You do seem to have inherited that capacity," Ruwee said heavily, "or had it forced on you, by virtue of the world he brought you up in," he added, his eyes back on Bail angrily – he could only think of the pain this little granddaughter of his had been forced to suffer, and how it reawakened all of his grief over the things Padmé put herself through, things he hadn't been able to protect her from – and Bail had taken Luke, and taken Leia, and let them be pushed into this war as well –

"I only wish that she had kept her head down more," he said huskily – he loved his daughter more than he loved people he'd never met, and he wished she'd – he was so angry he'd lost her. He nodded his head at Leia. "I'm sure you understand," he said, thinking of the position she'd been placed in with the Rebellion – _betray a host of your loyal allies, or betray your planet._

Leia compressed her lips tightly.

Han, who hadn't been listening until that point, turned his head suddenly.

"What?" he asked curtly.

Bail gave him a startled look – Han sounded on the verge of outrage, suddenly Ruwee blinked at Han without hesitation –

"I'm sure she knows what I mean," he repeated.

Han sat back and casually stared at Ruwee, almost relaxed in how feral he looked.

"Darling," Jobal started. She looked wary, even pained. "Please, take a deep breath."

Bail looked at Leia, and was surprised to see her looking back at him, her face drained of colour.

"I mean there seems to be a fine line between fighting for justice and the arrogance of martyrdom," Ruwee said. "Padmé kept fighting when it was damn near selfish to do so - when she had you to think about, and when she died, we bore the brunt of it – she should have changed her tactics she – she gambled the same way you had to gamble with Alderaan."

Han seemed to have been waiting for that, that exact comment, or accusation - and he stood up abruptly, kicking his chair over violently in the process.

Bail's heart stuttered, and he watched Leia close her eyes and turn, reaching for Han's hand to placate him, and Bail asked himself why he hadn't seen where this was going - but he had a sheer lack of capacity to believe anyone could blame Leia for the devastation she had suffered, right along with them - and how could Ruwee be so bitter towards his daughter's legacy – ?

"You've got a lot of fuckin' nerve, pal," Han snapped.

"Gran-Papa," Pooja exclaimed, her eyes widening.

Sola stared at her father, and turned to Leia, shaking her head –

"Padmé never would have thought that way," she said.

"Padmé didn't think," Ruwee said stiffly. "She was a brilliant woman, but – "

Pooja stood up.

"She _was_ brilliant," she agreed, "and she wanted to make the galaxy better, and she fought for it – she was brave, and if we aren't brave too, that's not her fault -!"

"You've never listened to this lesson, Pooja," Ruwee snapped. "Idealism has to be curtailed at some point. Having faith in people, fighting for people who never care, who will likely lazily subsist under any government that shows enough power..the results of naiveté are catastrophic – Alderaan is an example of that."

Leia tightened her grip on Han's wrist as he tried to yank away. She avoided looking at her grandfather, her mind working furiously, trying to determine why he would do this; what was the point of him blaming her for – had he lost friends there, was he just – suffering, seeking an outlet - ?

She avoided looking at her father, too, because guilt over all he'd lost on the planet threatened to overwhelm er, and she was surprised, because she'd thought she had long forgiven herself for her guilt on that awful day.

"Don't do that - _don't_ sit there and run your mouth," Han barked. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about – that wasn't Leia's fault," he snarled.

He wrenched his head towards Bail.

"You want to chime in, Viceroy?" he demanded sarcastically.

Han dipped his head pointedly words Leia, silently rebuking him – _kriff, old man, say you don't blame he, tell her it's not her fault - !_

Leia turned her head up and pulled on Han's hand, beckoning him down to her. She murmured to him quietly, he bit something back tensely – she said, a bit louder – "No, Han; it's fine. Let it go." – and Han straightened up, livid –

"You want to sit here and listen to this?" he demanded roughly.

He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed tightly. He shrugged, violently; if she wanted some kind of twisted penance, he couldn't win a fight with her over it in public – he'd already suffered the consequences of that – it had been an achingly long time since anyone had insinuated Alderaan was Leia's fault, and this bastard was supposed to be her family - -and it was so out of left field –

Han rubbed his jaw, and pulled his hand off her shoulder, making a jerky motion like he was washing his hands of the matter. He walked – stormed – out of the room by way of one of the open arches, and Leia leaned back heavily in her chair, staring at her plate.

There was utter silence at the table, and then the sound of scraping chair legs.

"Ruwee," Bail said, his clean, careful diplomatic tone cutting into the void. "May I speak with you privately?"

Ruwee Naberrie stood almost in conjunction with the request, as if he expected it, relished it, even – with a pinched expression, the two men excused themselves, exiting the rotunda through a different archway than Han, and retreating into a sitting room.

Left with the remaining Naberries, and her brother, Leia said nothing.

"Leia, I," started Jobal. "He's been so…awfully bitter since Padmé died," she went on haltingly. "He…fought with her, quite a bit, in the last few months, and he feels guilty, and he's…he got worse when Pooja took her seat in the Senate," she rambled. "Leia, oh, I'm so sorry, dear, no one thinks you – "

"I didn't even know he felt that way," Pooja said, her eyes filling with angry tears. "I don't even know anyone who thinks Alderaan was – oooh, what an awful – I thought Gran-Papa was a _good_ man!"

Leia looked up then, lifting her head heavily, her eyes on Pooja.

"He is," she said quietly. "He's still grieving."

"That does _not_ mean he can saw _awful_ things like that!" Pooja cried.

Leia sat back. She looked towards Luke, though not directly at him.

"Grief is easier when you make someone else bear it," she remarked tiredly.

She rubbed her forehead, and cleared her throat – she'd unfairly lashed out at Luke enough, at Han – at her father even, making them bear her grief so she could ease her own pain a little, because she needed respite so badly.

They all fell into subdued silence again, and then they heard an explosive clash of raised voices –

" _You will not – you will not speak to my daughter that way – "_

" _You are not the head of this household, Bail!"_

" _I don't give a damn – I am the only one here with the right to blame Alderaan on anyone – what if I were to stick it on your wretched son-in-law, and that's your daughter's astonishingly bad – would you stand to let me blame Padmé for the death of millions - ?_

" _You don't talk about her,"_ roared Ruwee, _"you took her children from us – "_

" _We had to keep them safe!"_

" _Bullshit, you raised them both for the slaughter!"_

Darred started to stand up briskly.

"Well," he started.

" _You think it would have been smart to hand two newborns over to Padmé's blasted relatives and act like they weren't hers? Vader would have taken them from you –_

" _You put Luke_ Skywalker _on Anakin's home planet with his_ relatives _!"_

"That's an excellent point," Sola said dryly, and then looked up at Darred. "Go in there," she ordered. "Intervene."

There was a loud _banging_ noise.

Whyler got up, and Luke jumped up, alarmed.

"They wouldn't - _fight_ each other-?" he gasped.

Darred turned on his heel and strode out, and Whyler and Luke followed hastily – Leia winced, taking her napkin out of her lap and placed it neatly on her plate. She cleared her throat very quietly.

"If anything, it's likely my father tried to throw a punch and fell over," she said.

Pooja was the only one who laughed at the light attempt at humor, and she laughed weakly. Leia pushed her seat back as quietly as possible and inclined her head, blocking out the fading sounds of her father's shouting as she heard Darred shout for them to _shut up –_

"If you'll excuse me," she said quietly, "I should go hunt down my husband."

She suddenly was thinking only about Han; she felt very bad, confusingly so, for staying put while he marched out – she felt it made him look like an unreasonable hothead, when he'd done nothing but defend her, and she appreciated that.

She stepped outside of the archway he'd left through, and looked around – and spotted him, sitting on a stone bench near a fountain, hunched over and scowling. She made her way in his direction, and stood in the shadows for a moment – the sun had set long ago, and it was dark, but for lanterns in the fountain.

She waited for a moment, and then took a few quiet steps out onto the marble patio and approached him, saying nothing even as she sat down on the bench next to him. She reached out to touch his knee, and he looked up at her.

"Don't let people treat you like that," he said flatly. "Don't ever listen to that _shit_ , Leia."

She sighed quietly.

"I have to pick my battles," she said slowly. "He's…hurting, Han – "

"Pick that one," Han interrupted sharply.

He shook his head, his eyes on hers intently.

"You know, these people are free because of you," he went on angrily. "They're off a blacklist because you had nerve, and they were spineless. They have their planet, and you lost everything. You fought, and that prick tucked his head between his legs, so fuck him."

Leia bit her lip, her heart stuttering.

"If he comes at you again, if he says anything like that to you again," Han said bluntly, "I'll hit him."

Leia believed him. She lifted her hand and brushed his hair back, tucking it behind his ears and moving closer – she didn't think any of the Naberries were spineless, necessarily; they had suffered much, and been broken; Padmé had been their politician, Pooja the hesitant follower in her footsteps – this family wasn't even one like Leia's, where public service was the norm, and sacrifice demanded.

Still, Han's impassioned view of her – it meant a lot to her, and she touched his face, and put her arm around his shoulders, and leaned against him heavily, silently thanking him – _I love you so much, scoundrel._

She kissed his shoulder through his shirt and found herself – not as concerned about the family dynamics as she thought she would be. She thought she'd be overwhelmed, constantly anxious, tense and on the verge of snapping, about all of this - but rather, as a woman who was acutely aware of how jarring it could be to find out dark, unwelcome truths about your family…she found she could bear their reactions, and manage her emotions concerning them, because she remembered how harshly she had treated her own loved ones.

She tried to be understanding to them. Her stress and personal chaos over Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader was old; persistent, but she'd reached a crux with it, and she dealt now in a constant, dichotomous plane – the bulk of her stress here emanated from her conflict with Han, though of course the root of that was the maddening same old thing – _Vader; poisoned bloodline, fear, the Force_ – she had told Han a year ago that one meditative experience wouldn't cure her, and yet maybe she had hoped it would.

"Han," she whispered, lifting her head and sighing. "I know we're not on the best terms right now," she said shakily.

He turned towards her and took her hands, leaning forward to kiss her temple.

"It'll be fine," he said gruffly.

She felt a twist of tension, mild anger – with herself, not him; she was angry that they would have to have it out, that they were spiraling towards a massive blew up; she knew they were, and she resisted it – she didn't want to have it, but one of them would get tired of the tension, and instigate something to drain the infection in their relationship –

She swallowed hard, shackled, suddenly, with the same paralyzing attitude that had always plagued her in those bad days at the dawn of the New Republic – _just keep surviving until it gets better_ –

 _Han,_ she thought, _I need you to fight with me. Make me talk._ She tried to make her mouth work. It wouldn't.

Han buried his nose in her hair and took a deep breath. She leaned into him again, accepting his comfort. He closed his eyes and breathed out tiredly – he figured dinner was over, everyone ought to go their separate ways for the night, but he felt a lingering ache of concern for Leia, calm as her reaction was – _pick your battles,_ he thought bitterly – _yeah, sweetheart, sure_ – he was willing to bet Ruwee's words had hit her harder than she was willing to admit.

* * *

In their bedroom late in the night, Ruwee faced the wrath of his wife. Jobal was a gentle woman; she loathed loud arguments and aggression, thus her wrath was often cold and soft, and it was a sentiment he did not often find himself confronted with.

He sat on a carved wooden chest at the foot of their bed, first watching her pace, then listening to her speak –

"Your behavior tonight was _unspeakable_ ," Jobal lectured, her face tight – and Ruwee felt anguish to see her so upset; he loved her dearly, and he regretted much of his lashing out.

His resentment of Bail Organa had only – simmered, and brewed, and the levity of much of tonight's conversation, combined with the tragedy of the past all brought up and laid out in front of him – it was a lot to deal with, after years of hiding everything, and trying to move on with the knowledge that any foray into nostalgia risked the attention of the Empire, and their lives.

"Luke and Leia have been kind, polite, sweet guests – as I said, young people who our daughter would be proud to call hers, and you attacked that girl, you sat at my table, and you made her seem cruel, and you made her seem emotionless," Jobal stopped in front of him, folding her arms.

He lifted his head, and she was crying, turning her head to rub her face on the shoulder and catch the tears.

"I don't care how angry you are at Bail Organa," she said harshly, "how dare you treat Leia that poorly – and Luke, you make it seem like Luke isn't here for his own sake, too!" she went on.

"Jobal," he said hoarsely, finally finding his voice. "I've spent years trying to move on."

She went down on her knees in front of him, placing her palms on his thighs earnestly.

"No, Ruwee, you've wallowed in grief," she said pleadingly. "You've been a shell, and I know how much it hurts," she put a hand to her chest, "I know more than anything. I'm her _mother_. You're not only devastated over losing her, you're angry at Padmé – oh, you have been since the day she died."

Ruwee scrubbed his hands over his face miserably.

He had begged his daughter to quiet down, to try and find a different way to fight her beliefs – and still she had stood staunchly, and strongly, demanding justice, demanding equality and freedom, and dying for it –

Dying for it, dying because of love of Anakin –

"You're angry because you think she made silly mistakes and you're angry that she chose to die for what she believe in instead of coming home to you," Jobal whispered, "but darling, she would hate that anger."

Jobal licked her lips, and Ruwee reached out to her, shaking his head, his teeth grit.

"We missed out on everything, Jo!" he said hoarsely. "Two men we barely knew took our grandchildren and separated them. They survived it, but at what cost? We could have protected Luke and Leia from Padmé's path, just kept them here and let them be safe and innocent – I feel the worst of it for Leia, carrying the weight of Alderaan on her shoulders because Bail, Bail set her up to carry on Padmé's mantle, the same foolish idealism – "

Jobal swallowed hard, her shoulders sagging.

"It hurts me too, Ru," she said earnestly. "It makes me furious, even. But it isn't Leia's fault, and it isn't Luke's fault, and you took this out on her in the cruelest way," Jobal pleaded. "I think you tried to imply that if Bail hadn't stolen them, Alderaan would never have paid for his sins – but it only sounded like you were blaming that poor girl for a genocide."

Ruwee hung his head again, face in his hands.

"Do you really think Padmé would have wanted her babies ripped away from each other and raised by strangers?"

Jobal tilted her head helplessly.

"Everyone is a stranger to a baby," she said. "I don't know, Ru. Padmé was so secretive towards the end. She trusted no one. She withdrew from us. I don't think there's anything that can be done now. I think," she said firmly, "that our girl would want us to _have_ a relationship with her children."

Ruwee rubbed his eyes.

"Of course," he admitted heavily, shoulders falling.

He harbored – so much bitterness towards public service. He'd lost his faith in government years ago, and the resurrection of this old tragic grief – it was hard enough confronting the twins in their own right; it was worse finding himself the grandfather of Leia Organa. He'd always found her to be impressive, threateningly strong in an admirable way – but now that he knew her origins, he felt only fear of what Padmé had been through.

He had worked to keep his family cocooned, protected – he wanted their heads down, and their loss minimized, and he wanted to be left in peace – and this would thrust them center stage again, though the worst of it, he supposed, was that he might stand to have his heart broken again.

He resented Bail Organa, certainly – but it didn't take much for him to love those twins, Luke and Leia; the boy with all of his daughter's gentle nature and optimism, the girl with her looks and her acumen – he didn't give a damn if their father had become Anakin Skywalker, he only wanted to know them, to make up for lost time, and to keep them safe.

And the daunting thing about Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa was precisely that they were never safe – they were warriors.

"Ru," Jobal said softly, her voice breaking. "You have to _let_ Padmé rest in peace. You have to let go of Pooja, even – you can't keep living in this anguish over Padmé, you have to live in _honor_ of her."

Ruwee stared down at his knees for a long time, and leaned forward. He slid his hands into his wife's hair, pressed his face to the crown of her head, and broke down in tears – quiet, reserved, but wrenching, his chest hurting with every sob – it had been so long since he'd cried over Padmé, but the feeling was there every day; the loss of a child was a horrendous pain, and he wished for an ounce of Jobal's angelic grace, he wished he hadn't let it get the best of him tonight.

She was gentle in soothing him, forgiving him for his trespasses against everyone tonight – there would be a time to talk, more calmly, about how he should go about repairing the damage he'd done.

"The past has to be in the past," Jobal murmured firmly. "From now on. I want your word – we want Luke and Leia in this family."

He nodded, kissing her hair lightly. She rose up, and he pulled her close, resting his head against her stomach where she stood. Jobal threaded her fingers through his hair, satisfied with his contrition, and she let her anger fade – she sighed heavily, willing to share in his grief over their lost daughter, willing to –

"Jobal," Ruwee said abruptly, his voice hoarse – he released her, and stood up, and Jobal had already turned towards their bedroom door, her face pale with alarm – both of them heard it; _screaming._

* * *

The nightmare was hazy, for most of it, Leia faded in and out of a shallow sort of fitful sleep, witnessing scenes, feeling chased to the brink of horror, and then the horror would vanish, and she'd sleep again – in her slumber, she trudged through an amalgamation of her old ghosts, tired of facing them, used to them – tossing and turning –

Back in her cell; then back before the viewport; Vader holding her tight and Tarkin taunting her – her father would stand there, helpless, and disappear when she was returned to her cell, sitting there trapped with her –

She suffered the probe droid again, pressed into a corner, hurting, resisting, doubled over in _pain – pain, pain –_

 _That's_ when it was different; the pain shifted, reached a peak, and she closed her eyes, choking back a scream – _it's on YAVIN – no, don't tell them - !_ She held her tongue even though she wanted to break, and when the pain vanished she opened her eyes, and she was in a white room, warm, safe - the Rebel Med centre? Where was she - ?

She sat up violently, blinking in the sterile white lights, and next to her, a figure shifted – _Han_ , she thought in relief, turning to him, foggy in the nightmare – _Han –_

" _Look, Sweetheart,"_ he said softly – he held his arms out to her, showing her a small, delicate mass of soft green blankets, and Leia leaned over to look – _"What do you think, huh?"_ – Han whispering to her, grinning at her, and she looked down at the baby in his arms, afraid she wouldn't feel anything –

Innocent, pure, wide blue eyes, staring up at her, and she turned towards him, letting him hand her the baby, her throat tight; she held – him, her? – against her chest, reaching in to draw her finger along a small, rosy cheek – and the baby stared up at her – she felt helpless with the emotions that swept over her, looked up to smile at Han – _I do want one, I do, I do, I do_ –

Han was gone; she was alone, and then she was in her cell again, still holding this precious thing – and she looked around frantically, withdrawing back to the corner – _"Han?"_ \- she yelped - _no, no, no -_

Vader stood over her, sat on the metal slab with her and reached – with his possessive, gloved hand – digging his fingers into the crease of her elbow, hand cupping under the baby's head -

" _Mine_ ," he growled, that rasping, awful voice of his, and Leia shook her head – he took the infant from her, and Leia lunged forward, only to be thrown back, she covered her ears and cowered, trying to block out the wailing, terrified screaming that filled the cell – _her? Or the baby?_

She gasped in pain, feeling the needles again – under her nails, in her abdomen, and then she felt paralyzed in fear, and anger – the Empire had taken _everything_ from her, everything, even her confidence in what she wanted in her future – she hashed out an imaginary fight with Han - _I can't do it, Han, I just can't do it, we'd risk too much -_ and in her worst nightmares, him snapping back at her - _It's always your way, Sweetheart, and I'm done -_

She sat forward and screamed at Vader in her cell, wordless and angry – and she choked on the fear that the probe droid's chemicals were ruining her, needles taking the ability to give life from her, Vader ripping life away from her, her own fears depriving her of her bravery, _losing_ Han – everything slammed together in her head – and Vader still stood there, in her cell, holding the bundle of green blankets – she seemed to pull the threat from his mind – _you escaped me Leia – this little one won't_ –

Leia lurched forward, twisting away from the ache in her bones, and she gasped, giving a strangled cry when she collided with something warm, and firm – _catching_ her –

"Han!" she shrieked hoarsely, identifying him by his smell alone, and then, the gentle way he grasped her tightly.

She ran her hands over the back of his head and pulled back, touching his face – making sure it was him. He nodded slowly, eyes on hers intently.

"It's me," he murmured gruffly. "S'okay, Leia," he soothed sleepily, sitting back.

She hugged herself shakily, and tucked her head down, fighting quiet sobs. Han got up and bent over to kiss her – the top of her head, her cheek, her ear, her shoulder – and turned a few dim lights on.

He returned to sit on the edge of the bed, holding out one arm, and she moved closer, leaning into him.

He sighed, resting his cheek on her head, running his hand through her hair.

"S'okay, Sweetheart," he promised. "You're safe."

Leia flinched at the sound of a faint knock – not on their door, on the antechamber door, and she made a quiet sound of – guilt, or something, maybe shame. Han kissed her temple again.

"You stay here," he said softly, getting up.

Leia looked up at him, her eyes rimmed with red, wet circles.

"I was screaming?" she asked, abashed.

Han shrugged, waved his hand.

"It's okay," he repeated. "No one'll care."

He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, bracing himself to go deal with whoever had come knocking. He rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes and went through the antechamber without turning lights on, opening the door quickly but warily.

He was grimly relieved to see it was only Jobal – until he caught sight of Ruwee just past her, in the hall. He gave the other man an icy look, and focused his attention on Jobal Naberrie's worried face.

"It's Leia," he said gruffly, keeping quiet – answering the questions he knew she had; _who, why, is she hurt?_ "She'll be okay. She has bad dreams."

"Well, can I – " began Jobal – and she was interrupted.

Pooja darted past her, saw her grandparents, and turned, a worried look on her face.

"Did you hear – who's?" she stammered. "I thought it was – "

"It's not one of mine," Ryoo appeared near Ruwee, looking just as worried, and Han rubbed his jaw, frustrated, and trying to swallow it – _kriff_ , a house full of people, and Leia was always morose enough about waking _him_ up –

"It's Leia," Jobal said.

"Is she okay?" Ryoo asked, her face falling.

"She's – " Han started – and thought he might scream, when he saw Luke appear, his hair sticking up, and his pajamas crooked.

"Was that Leia?" he asked grimly, though Han could tell from his face that he already knew. "She alright?"

"What's going – Ryoo, is Maiah – " Sola made an appearance, as well, and Han flattened his palm against the doorframe, pressing his head against it.

 _Son of a bitch –_

"It wasn't Maiah," Ryoo said.

"Leia," Pooja supplied worriedly.

Sola blinked tiredly and then turned on her father.

"I'm sure it has everything to do with what you've said to her," she snapped.

"Hey," Han started roughly. "Look – "

Jobal nodded, turning at the look on his face – now wasn't the time. She raised her hands calmly – and then paused, of course, as the final concerned citizen joined them – Bail, looking wary, stopped at the top of the stairs, and then met Han's eyes with understanding.

He took over for Jobal.

"Leia's alright," he said heavily. "You have to…give her space to breathe," he said quietly.

He shot a look of relief at Han.

Jobal bit her lip, and lowered her hands – and Sola moved into action, ushering her two girls back in the right direction, and shooting a reprimanding look at her father – the crowd faded quickly, and Han was left with Luke looking at him quietly, and Bail and Jobal, lingering worriedly – Ruwee was led away by his remaining daughter.

"How bad, Han?" Bail asked quietly.

Han shook his head.

"She's fine," he said honestly – by most of his standards, it actually wasn't that bad of a nightmare; she'd realized where she was pretty quickly, and sometimes he struggled to convince her it was really him, and she was really okay.

As if she'd heard him, sensed the circus he was dealing with, he felt Leia sidle up to him, sliding her hand over his lower back. She twisted her hand into his shirt, holding on tensely. He pulled the door back a little and she let them see she was physically alright – pale, but putting on a brave smile.

"Nightmares," she admitted faintly. "I'm – I apologize, Jobal – "

"No, you do not," Jobal said softly, stepping forward. Hesitantly, she touched Leia's cheeks, and then clicked her tongue soothingly. "May I make you some tea? You needn't come down for it; I'll bring it up," she promised, "and leave it with you."

Leia swallowed hard, touched. She leaned into Han, and nodded wordlessly.

Jobal smiled, and pulled her hands back carefully.

"Don't worry, dear," she said sincerely. "I mean that. _Don't_ stress yourself. We'll all go back to sleep just fine," she assured her. "You try to do so, as well."

Jobal smiled at her, and touched Bail's arm as she went, beckoning to him – she could use a talk with the Viceroy, while she made tea. Leia watched after her, and turned her face into Han's side, sighing shakily.

Luke moved closer.

"Leia?" he asked.

"Did you see any of it?" she moaned quietly – she hadn't sensed Luke there, but she never knew, sometimes, when they were sharing the same nightmare –

"No," Luke said.

He put a hand on her shoulder gently, and she grasped his knuckles. She took a deep breath and smiled at him.

"I'm okay," she said.

"You ought to meditate," Luke encouraged softly. "If it's getting bad again."

Leia shook her head a little, and let go of his hand. She didn't respond – she knew he'd think it was a lie if she said she wasn't having a hard time – but truth be told, she hadn't had a particularly bad nightmare in months. She'd had some restless nights, and some dreams that left her sad – but nothing like this.

Han shared a silent, introspective look with Luke, and nodded his head a little, reassuring him that his sister was in good hands. Leia returned to the sitting room, where she sat down and started combing her fingers through her hair, thinking of Jobal, and her maternal kindness, and her tea. Her arms felt heavy, and her stomach felt hollow. She heard Han close the door with a soft _click,_ and she closed her eyes lightly. Han sat on the edge of the table in front of her, leaning forward to touch her knees. He ran his hands over her protectively, and then leaned forward to press a kiss to her lips.

"What's it about, Sweetheart?" he asked hoarsely.

She'd been mumbling his name. She didn't usually do that.

Leia leaned back, making herself small in the corner of the couch. She shook her head, and she looked at him, with an expression on her face that was a confusing mixture of - apologetic, and defiant.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Han let his hands rest loosely on her knees, holding back an angry sigh. He blinked at her, his temple, and his eyes aching heavily - _kriff,_ it - it was almost as if he felt like crying, except it had been so long since he'd cried, he didn't remember what the hell it felt like. He watched her wordlessly, intent on sitting there stubbornly, just being with her – he thought if he was just silent and supportive, she'd change her mind, and tell him everything that was wrong, like she always did, but she was subdued, and mute, until Jobal returned with a cup of tea, and a soft word goodnight.

* * *

 _i have it on good authority our intrepid couple talks a little next chapter._  
 _trust me, i know the author_

 _-feedback appreciated!_  
 _~Alexandra_


	8. Seven

_a/n: hopefully, this chapter will answer some questions and provide some fun insight - onward!_

* * *

 _Seven_

* * *

In the early afternoon, Luke set out to the sporting sheds at the east end of the Naberrie property, arms laden with a light lunch. After a rather – subdued morning, during which everyone was too politely consumed with giving each other space, Luke had inquired as to where Ruwee was, and Jobal had sent him off with a picnic basket, advising Luke that his grandfather was cleaning rifles for tomorrow's hunt.

"At least, that is what he is _officially_ doing," she had said, ushering day servants out of the kitchens and making toasted sausage sandwiches herself. "It does not take six hours to clean the rifles – unless he has dismantled and scrubbed each one with a fine bristled toothbrush – so I suspect he is hiding."

Her tone was crisp, knowing, and wry, and Luke was amused by it; he did not think his presence would be unwelcome, and if Ruwee was meticulously breaking down each rifle and cleaning it with the precision of an insane weapons maintenance officer, Luke would merely offer to help. Ruwee had plenty of cause for isolating himself; he'd managed to enrage both Bail and Han – and most of the women in his family – the previous evening, and if he in any way connected Leia's nightmares to what he'd said to her, he probably felt a substantial amount of guilt, too.

Luke knew discovering the visceral reality of Leia's nightmares for the first time could be a shock, to say the least.

He also knew his sister was embarrassed, even though she'd been told several times that she shouldn't be, and everyone was treating her just as normally as they could, and that mortified feeling she was dealing with had left her taking refuge in her diplomatic formality persona. Luke thought there was a high chance of Han going ballistic on her in the next few days…and he thought it might be a good idea.

He himself was determined to repair any damage with Ruwee, and draw the obviously melancholy old man out of his shell – Luke was good with melancholy old beings; he always had been.

He knocked on the door of the shed he'd been directed to, and cleared his throat, waiting.

"For the last time, I haven't shot myself, Whyler," growled a muffled, annoyed voice. Ruwee grumbled something else, and Luke stuck his head in the door, peering around the edge of it. "Oh," Ruwee said gruffly, straightening up as he recognized him – he was, indeed, surrounded by considerably dismantled weapons; perhaps he _was_ deep cleaning them.

A task he'd have decided to embark on, most likely, because it gave him reason to avoid the house.

Luke stepped inside, holding up lunch.

"Jobal thought you might be hungry," Luke said pleasantly.

"She didn't have to send you all the way out here," Ruwee said heavily, beckoning him in. He rested a sleek hunting rifle over his knees, broken safely near the grip, and sighed.

"She didn't commission me," Luke said honestly. "I asked where I could find you."

Ruwee nodded grimly.

"There's a chair," he started, gesturing around. "Er, or a bucket?" he said vaguely, looking around the shed as if he actually wasn't sure if there was anywhere for Luke to sit.

Luke approached with the picnic basket and set it on the floor at Ruwee's feet, avoiding oiled up rags and carbon cleansing brushes. He looked around him, held out his palm towards a bent metal bucket in the corner, and casually called it over without a word, settling it neatly next to his ankles with an effortless command of the Force, and sitting down.

Ruwee watched him with interest, and then a small smile.

"You really do look like him," he said honestly. He shrugged his shoulder towards the bucket Luke had summoned. "I think I see it even more when you do things like that."

Luke smiled a little.

"Bail also says I look like Anakin," he offered. "I never saw him, as he was," he went on slowly. "Well – but for a brief moment," he muttered, almost to himself – an image gone so quickly he was never sure if it was real. "I've heard that I look like Anakin, and have Padmé's temperament, and Leia looks like her, but has Anakin's temperament."

Ruwee made a gruff noise, shrugging. He bent down to open the picnic basket, picking through to see what his wife had sent along.

"That sounds black and white," he said. "Too simple."

He looked up, shaking his head.

"I don't know about that. Do you want me to confirm it?" he asked.

"Oh, I'd like to hear you talk about them, my mother and father," Luke said. "I don't need myself validated."

Ruwee smiled wryly, and held out a sandwich.

"Are these the same?" he asked.

Luke nodded, but refused his.

"I'm not hungry," he said. "I brought the food as a ruse, to get me in the door," he snorted.

Ruwee shrugged, and started unwrapping his.

"It's about damn time someone spoke directly to what their intentions were," he muttered appreciatively.

Luke said nothing for a moment.

"Well," he began simply. "You ought to know, then, that I want to talk to you about the Jedi. Pooja mentioned you had some insight into their old practices. First," he said, pausing carefully, "I want to talk to you about my sister."

"Ah," Ruwee said immediately. His voice was grim, and he nodded. "I expected nothing less. You have every right," he admitted. He winced dryly. "If you are going to attempt to hit me, as Bail did – "

"I won't be striking you," Luke said mildly, holding back a wry grin at the thought of Bail's ill-fated, but valiant, attempt at physically defending Leia's – political honor? Personal heartbreak? – Luke wasn't sure what the Viceroy had intended, but a busted chin was probably not it. He'd lost his balance and struck his face on an end cabinet while throwing a punch that did not, in fact, connect with Ruwee. "Though, if I did seek to hit you, it would be no mere attempt," he noted simply.

Ruwee looked him over and arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, that's what I'm afraid of," he said flatly. "I'd tell you I've seen a Jedi strike before, but they always moved too quickly for me to actually see it," he related. "There was a time your father moved so fast I think I was still in mid-blink and yet the person he'd targeted was bleeding on the ground."

Luke raised his eyebrows with interest.

"And who was my father attacking?"

"A protester," Ruwee answered heavily. "A young man who dove at Padmé while we were at a benefit on Hosnian Prime."

Luke looked thoughtful. He nodded, and flexed his hand.

"A Jedi's weapon is generally not his fist," he said slowly. "Words are considered powerful. Weapons - a last resort," he said, patting the lightsaber hooked to his belt. "You, of course, know how powerful words can be, or you'd have thrown a dinner plate at Leia last night instead of saying what you did," Luke said, effortlessly guiding the conversation. He paused, grimacing: "Be aware, though, that cracking porcelain over Leia's head and piercing her heart with the jagged edges probably would have hurt her less than accusing her of gambling with the lives of her people."

Ruwee rubbed his jaw, looking down at his lunch, away from Luke heavily.

"You blamed her for the death of millions."

Ruwee swore quietly.

"Yes, I did," he agreed tiredly, making no excuse. "I could tell you it's not really what I meant to imply, but," he sighed stiffly. "The damage is done."

"I _would_ like you to tell me what you meant to imply," Luke said honestly.

Ruwee looked at him and smirked mirthlessly.

"It's really not much better, as my wife informed me last night," he said. He picked at the brown paper Jobal had wrapped his sandwich in. "I've felt – that the circumstances surrounding yours and Leia's – adoptions," he forced out the word bitterly, because he wanted to say was – _abductions_ , "forced the two of you into destinies that…robbed you of any hope for peaceful lives. That…nothing was learned from the tragedy of your parents. I wanted – well, in my desire to drive home that point to Bail, I thought I could make him see that if he'd left you and Leia to be raised safely and hidden with us – "

"You tried to blame Bail for Alderaan," Luke guessed.

"As I said," Ruwee said thinly. "What I intended was not any better," he muttered, holding himself to a standard of self-critique he'd used to hold his daughters to - _you never point a finger at anyone, girls, until you have acknowledged every single thing you did wrong, too._

"I don't think Bail throwing the pain of your daughter's romantic choices into your face and then throwing his fist at you was any better," Luke said bluntly, just a touch of amusement in his voice. "But as a father, I'm sure you understand – he _watched_ you attack his daughter."

Ruwee nodded.

"I don't blame Bail for protecting Leia," Ruwee said honestly. The way he said it _– I don't blame Bail for_ protecting _Leia_ – with an obvious, perhaps even subconscious, emphasis on the last part of the sentence, easily illustrated that Ruwee still blamed Bail for a plethora of other things.

"As for," Luke began delicately, "our destinies," he quoted slowly. "Well, let's remember, at least, that Leia and I are in our twenties," he said, laughing a little dryly, "and destiny implies an end has been reached, and nothing further awaits – we've got a lot left to do," he advised pleasantly.

He hesitated, tilting his head back and forth.

"Leia and I may have been put on a path," he offered. "I think Ben Kenobi, and Master Yoda, had more concrete intentions, perhaps unfair, perhaps manipulative," Luke allowed, "but that all depends on certain points of view – what is important to remember is…when a defining moment came, Leia and I both made a choice."

He caught Ruwee's eye.

"I think even if we had been given to you, we would never have been kept out of this," he reflected. "Leia was raised to be a Princess of Alderaan, I'm assuming with the intention that she'd take the Queen's crown when her mother died," he pointed out. "I do think Bail wanted to protect her. I think when it became clear that Leia was capable of more than domestic rule," Luke trailed off. "Leia chose radical insurgency when I was building sandcastles on Tatooine," he said flatly. " _No_ _one_ could have stopped her. Now, perhaps you may argue that it was inevitable, considering where she was raised, and how she was raised, and you may think you could have kept her – us – safer, but in that case, I'd point you to Pooja."

"Hmm," Ruwee grunted thoughtfully, inclining his head. "Ah. Pooja."

"Yes, the girl who _was_ raised to keep her head down, and stay out of politics, and live quietly and without raising her voice, to keep safe? Yet who ended up volunteering to join the Imperial senate to protect her family?" Luke said wryly. He grinned, and nodded. "There's bravery and clout in every vein of every person in this family."

"Bravery," sighed Ruwee. "An addiction to martyrdom," he corrected, tilting his head alternately.

Luke shrugged.

"Martyrs die for the cause," he said. "Leia and I are alive."

Ruwee considered him for a long time. In the silence, Luke cleared his throat, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees.

"As for my sister," he said quietly. "For a long time, Leia was all I had. My aunt and uncle were dead, the father I barely knew was dead, and she was my sole family, until we were able to discover you," he explained. "We're very close. She's the most important person in my life, for now," he said frankly – and it was true; Leia might say Han was her number one, but Luke had no romantic ties yet, and though his friendships were solid, and meaningful, their sibling bond was what he valued most. "I want to speak on her behalf."

"Luke, I think Leia's a fine girl – " Ruwee started earnestly.

"She's not a girl, she's a grown woman," Luke corrected – not harshly, though firmly. "She's more sensitive than she will ever show, to anyone," he said, speaking from a place of personal analysis. "I know you see Padmé in her. I figure you probably see Anakin in her, too. I'm sure that brings up plenty of anger because of what happened, and because of how you blame the political juggernaut of this galaxy for taking your daughter away from you, and killing her – and now Leia stands to inherit the same risks and responsibilities Padmé suffered for."

His gaze was thoughtful, cool – and he held Ruwee's eyes intently, reading the older man's feelings and intuitively weaving words out of them.

"I can see why you think Leia came here as a political play," he said. "There's something I want you to understand."

"She has political motive, Luke," Ruwee said wearily. "Maybe I'm cruel to fault her for it, but she's too prominently involved to have _no_ political motive."

"You're right," Luke said honestly, "but you still need to understand: Leia _hates_ Vader. She only recently accepted the idea of _Anakin Skywalker_ , of Vader having a _life,_ in which he was loved, and respected, before he turned. She struggles – obviously, not only with what he _personally_ inflicted on her, but with what he did to the entire galaxy. This was a secret that was kept from us our entire lives. Leia's dealing with it privately while she's on a national stage. She _agonized_ over this visit," he said, stressing his words as intently as he could. "She didn't want to upset your family. She didn't want to disturb you. She felt like it was barging in where we don't belong. She was incredibly sensitive to what your reactions would be. _I_ pushed her to this, probably before she was ready. You may think her intentions to make her family history clear to the public are conniving in some way, but Leia just sees the whole history here as proof that lies and lack of transparency _shred_ the fibers of peace. She doesn't want to disrespect your family. She doesn't _want_ to destroy the peace. She doesn't want to destroy the galaxy, either. Leia always tries to do the right thing. And every damn day, a hundred people tell her she's doing it wrong."

Luke finished, and took a deep breath, reaching up to run his hands over his jaw. He compressed his lips, and then braced one palm on his thigh, leaning forward with his head tilted.

"Something I've learned from watching Leia over the past few years is that…it's really easy to arbitrarily hate a public figure, to make him or her a scapegoat for all of your negative emotions and the bad things that have happened in the world," he said. "She takes it constantly from people who have never even met her. She really, _really_ ," Luke said, softening his tone, "doesn't need it from family."

Ruwee lifted his head, his eyes unreadable.

"Are we her family?" he asked. "We've only met the both of you so recently."

"Leia's _here_ because of Padmé. She's here because when Bail told her about Padmé, she decided her biological family history _was_ worth knowing and understanding. I'm here because I think everything is worth knowing, and family relationships are important me, something I've always lacked, and looked for. My sister," Luke paused, trying to phrase it. "She wants to make up for Vader, but she wants to _love_ Padmé."

He thought that might describe it, and he wanted to paint a good picture of Leia. He knew she could easily take care of herself, and defend herself, but Leia would also never represent herself as earnest, sensitive, and hopeful; it risked her emotions too much, and Leia had experienced too much pain to be emotionally barren with near strangers. He didn't feel like he was betraying her confidence; none of what he'd said was anything Leia had ever told him personally – they were his observations, his intuitions, regarding his twin.

"As for whether we're _family_ , well, that's genetically inarguable," Luke said, sighing. "In an emotionally meaningful sense of the word? That's for us to define together, of course, but I'd like to be a part of your family," he said honestly. "I think Leia would, as well."

"Perhaps without me, after my performance last night," Ruwee said dryly.

Luke shrugged. He grinned a little.

"You'll have to talk to Leia about that," he said, and his voice took on a stern edge that was – incongruous, possibly, because he was so much younger than Ruwee, but it was meaningful, and Ruwee was contrite – he did owe her, his granddaughter, a penitent conversation, and perhaps an explanation of his perspective.

Ruwee sighed. He held up the sandwich in his hand and shook it at Luke pointedly, appreciatively.

"You certainly care about her," he asserted.

"Yes," Luke agreed simply.

"Well, I'm glad," Ruwee said honestly. "I'm glad the two of you care about each other, and I'm glad the two of you have had people in your lives, who cared about you. I think Padmé would have wanted you kept together," he noted, "and kept with us – but I know she would have wanted, more than anything, for you to be _safe_. So, as you are both here, and both safe," he sighed. "Please know that…for all the – Jobal and I _do_ want you in our lives. Very much."

"I can easily sense that," Luke agreed. "I thought most of your animosity was directed at Bail."

Ruwee gave a mild scowl, and a snort of agreement.

"It seems you…see enough of Padmé in Leia that you took some unresolved issues out on her, but that's for you and Leia to address," Luke said politely. "As for Bail…you might actually bond with Han over taking things out on Bail," he said wryly, grinning a little, "you probably have more in common than you think."

Ruwee smiled wryly.

"I can't see why the Viceroy had a problem with Han. He seems like a perfect gentleman."

"He yelled at you over dinner last night."

"Oh, please," Ruwee scoffed. "I had two daughters and two granddaughters; do you know how many times _someone's_ boyfriend has yelled at me over dinner?"

Luke arched his brows.

"Seems like they date colorful characters," he retorted.

"Yes," Ruwee groaned, opening his lunch fully and taking a bite. He shook his head stiffly. " _Try_ stopping one of these Naberrie women from finding a hoodlum."

"Hoodlums with hearts of gold," Luke laughed.

Ruwee tilted his head back and forth, arching a brow.

"Argument's still out on your father," he said, forehead creasing. He shook his head, swallowing a mouthful, and sighing harshly. "No excuse for what he came to, but the Jedi, _damn it all_ , if they didn't put such maddening stress on the boy."

Luke sat back, his expression patient, but eager. Ruwee looked over, his expression pointed.

"This is what you're interested in, is it not? The old ways of the Jedi."

"Anything you can tell me," Luke said eagerly.

"Well, they called him the Chosen One, did you know that?" Ruwee asked.

Luke inclined his head – so he'd been told, as part of his training; Anakin Skywalker, the young Jedi destined to bring balance to the Force, destroy the Sith – well, hadn't he, in the end? There was quite an – abominable detour, but there was more than one way to skin a womp rat, so to speak.

"Imagine being ten years old, whisked away from your mother, told to abandon any idea of family, sacrifice your life to the well-being of strangers, resist natural human emotion," Ruwee ticked off fingers as he spoke, shaking his head incredulously. "Anakin was taken from one version of slavery to another."

Luke looked wary, and Ruwee held up his hand gently.

"Don't get me wrong, son," he said quickly. "I _admired_ the Jedi. I am a believer in the religion they keep, even if I've lost my way in these dark years," he said. "But organized churches, on any planet, _rot_ from the inside eventually – just as governments do."

Ruwee looked at him thoughtfully.

"The kind of unattached, selfless attachment the Jedi valued should be chosen, freely; not ingrained, if you ask me. Priesthoods should be holy sanctuaries of willing acolytes. Not enclaves of catalogued power."

"What do you mean by that?" Luke asked, his attention rapt. "I have very little background on the Old Jedi order; my mentors were vague. They talked less about their faults and more about the future. My future," he explained.

"Hmm," Ruwee murmured. "Well, discussing the faults of your life's devotion is difficult. I mean that the Jedi _raised_ their followers. They did not – they took Force sensitive children at birth, or at very, very young ages," he explained. "Not took by force, don't get me wrong – the idea was to sever attachments early; the Force, and the good of the Republic, was to be the only attachment."

Luke nodded.

"And they lost their way," he murmured, almost to himself, "because how can a person defend the sanctity of life if they're never immersed in the feeling of it?"

"Exactly," Ruwee noted heavily.

"How did they find these beings?" Luke asked.

"There used to be mysterious tests, done at birth, for children born under Republic rule," Ruwee said.

"I was given to understand the power is genetic," Luke said. He furrowed his brow. He frowned, leaning down on his knees again. "Leia and I – "

"Anakin was something like the Jedi had never seen, in terms of sensitivity, and power," Ruwee said. "I can't explain it. I barely understand it, and I think the Jedi barely understood it. It must not be _reliably_ genetic, or you'd think they would – breed their own, so to speak; yet marriage and children were forbidden in the Order," he pointed out.

Ruwee paused.

"It's not scientific," he said. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you that. It's spiritual. The Force _alights_ on people, I think. I think perhaps it has preferences, it's more common, in some bloodlines," he guessed slowly, "but it isn't purely understood. And a thing like that shouldn't be purely understood. If it could be absolutely defined, it would not be otherworldly; it would be mere science."

"Pooja told me you were considered for the Order," Luke ventured cautiously, unsure if Ruwee would balk at the mention. "I wondered if…Leia and I have inherited some sort of – double potency – "

"Ahh, it's not what you think," Ruwee said. "The Order was interested in me as a member of the Church, not as a full initiate," he said hesitantly. "There was a lot of research going into the nature of Force sensitivity at the time, and how it related to a certain – ubiquitous life form connecting us all," he explained. "The nomenclature is beyond me – I was one of those on the cusp," he said. "My parents refused."

Luke looked fascinated, overwhelmed – and he felt rabid curiosity, a desire to learn more. This demanded meditation, of course, but he just wondered – it was an interesting concept to consider, to research. He had always assumed the Force was inherent in the genes; that was his experience with it – his father was a Jedi; thus he inherited the power, and so did his sister. This knowledge, though, that the Jedi had selected – it implied that it cropped up at will, spontaneously, as well – though he was nearly positive that it was certainly passed down in the blood, as well. There was obviously little information on that, if the old Jedi Order had disallowed family, but Luke was certain if he had children, or if Leia did, they would be possessed of the sensitivity as well.

"Remember I am only a follower, and speak only of what was conventional knowledge back then, and of what I knew from my own interests," Ruwee added humbly.

"I'll take anything," Luke said frankly. "Leia and I have both talked about this, how we need to know our past so we can learn from it. I want to restore the Jedi to a place of honor in the galaxy, but I have to understand how to guide them well."

Ruwee nodded thoughtfully.

He was quiet a while, looking down at his feet, and then he glanced up at Luke.

"I think your father was a good Jedi," he said finally. "There's a…malicious horror, to his whole life's story, but I think…I would still call him a good Jedi, when he was…a Jedi."

Luke clasped his hands, his eyes lighting up.

"Can you tell me about him?" he asked, an earnest desperation coming out in his voice. "Not about Vader, not about – what might have made him turn," he said relieved to have a more secluded moment, where he could bask in his curiosity about his father the good man without being so cautious and careful about Leia – much as he loved her. "Tell me about _him_. The Jedi you knew."

Ruwee nodded. He bent down and picked up the other sandwich, handing it to Luke.

"Eat this while we talk," he advised, "or your grandmother will find out, and probably kill me if you've gone hungry," he said dryly, "and when you're done – you can help me get these guns in safe working order, too," he added. "I know we won't be on the hunt, but the last thing I need is for Bail Organa to accidentally shoot himself on my property because a rifle jammed."

Luke, in the process of opening his brown paper lunch, straightened up, and started laughing.

* * *

Han was not surprised in the least when Bail came hovering around him early in the afternoon. He _was_ surprised the Viceroy had not accosted him earlier, but in his defense, Han and Leia had had appeared later than usual for breakfast, and Bail would hardly have done anything to draw attention to the dramatics of last night when everyone was so kindly trying to make Leia feel comfortable.

It was clear she wasn't particularly comfortable, though, and it was clear to Bail that whatever was going on between she and Han was still, for lack of a better word, festering.

Han was outside on one of the stone benches near the citadel-like room in which they'd eaten dinner last night. Taking a cue from what Ruwee Naberrie had chosen to do to occupy himself far away from everyone, Han was cleaning his blaster – he wouldn't need it to take down hunting game, but since he'd told Indy he'd teach him some marksmanship, he figured he'd be remiss if the blaster wasn't in perfectly oiled working condition.

He wasn't sure how good he'd be at teaching marksmanship, but he figured it wouldn't matter too much to a little kid – Indy would just be thrilled to fire a blaster, much like Han himself had been thrilled to find his first one in a gutter in Coronet City.

Scrubbing out the barrel with a stiff bristled brush, he finally turned his head and glared pointedly at Bail.

"You waitin' for me to grant you an audience?" he asked.

Bail shrugged.

"Well, I didn't want to approach you without warning when you've got a weapon in your hands," Bail said logically.

Han gestured at the blaster, turning it side to side, holding it low to the stone bench he was sitting on.

"Bail, this is dismantled," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "It's not charged or loaded. I unhinged the slide lock _and_ disabled the trigger."

"I barely know what any of that means," Bail retorted.

"Blaster no blast," Han said slowly.

Bail scowled at him, and Han smirked a little, laying the weapon down near his foot – he was straddling the bench, one leg drawn up and resting on it, bent over at the waist to work in front of him with the stone as a make-shift table.

"Ah, so that means no accidental discharge," Bail noted, approaching.

Han snorted.

"Blasters don't go off on accident," he scoffed pointedly, arching a brow. "There are no guns and accidents. There are guns and idiots."

"That sounds fair," Bail noted, shuffling forward again. He frowned gloomily, thinking of the hunt he'd agreed to go on tomorrow. "Suppose I'm one of the idiots," he remarked.

Han shrugged, and shook his head.

"Bein' an idiot isn't the same as bein' unfamiliar with somethin'," he said evenly. "You listen to Whyler, or Darred or whoever teaches you how to use the hunting rifle, you'll be fine." He paused. "Or Indy can teach you. That's your level. Less intimidating," he mocked.

"You couldn't resist, could you?" Bail asked dryly.

Han shook his head, and picked up the oil cloth he was cleaning the muzzle with, giving his father-in-law a pointed look.

"Why're you lurking?" he demanded.

"I'm not _lurking_ ," Bail retorted. "I do not lurk."

"Fine. Why're you skulking?"

"That's not – what I'm doing either!" Bail scowled. "Skulking does not sound much better than lurking – "

"So you prefer to lurk, or skulk, Viceroy?"

"I'd prefer not to have a debate about vocabulary."

"What do you want, then, huh?" Han asked bluntly. He waved his cloth vaguely at Bail, narrowing his eyes. "You have your lecture face on."

The Viceroy of Alderaan sighed, and approached. He gestured to the empty side of the stone bench.

"Can I sit?"

"I don't know. Can you?"

Bail blinked at him very slowly, and Han grinned, shaking his head. He nodded, gesturing again, and leaned on his knee. Bail sat down heavily, turning to face Han, though not going so far as to mimic the way he casually straddled the bench. Both of them could see into the rotunda of the dining room from their seats, and out to the east, the Naboo sun was blistering in the sky – Han could hear one of Ryoo's kids shrieking down by the lake, where Whyler had taken them to swim.

"Why are you being so asinine today?" Bail asked irritably.

Han folded his arms and arched his brows, looking incredulous for a moment.

"'Cause you're about to stick your nose in where it doesn't belong," he answered. "So'm _preemptively_ pissed about it."

Bail held up his hands.

"Hang on, take it easy," he placated shortly. "I'm not going to do anything of the sort."

"Yeah, we'll see," Han said, unconvinced. He moved one hand and held it out, palm out flat, gallantly. "Come on, let me have it."

"I wanted to ask you if Leia's alright," Bail said quietly, his tone simple, and calm.

Han folded his arms back tightly, tucking his knuckles into his elbows. He tilted his head back and forth thoughtfully.

"Sure, she's okay," he answered. "C'mon, Bail, you know I've got her covered."

"I know," Bail agreed earnestly.

"She didn't like all the attention," Han said grimly.

"You can't blame them," Bail said with a wince. "They were worried. They aren't used to it."

Han shrugged – he didn't think Leia blamed them for it, he just knew how she was. She liked to keep her personal problems private, and even if these people were family, they were newly discovered family, and she wasn't completely comfortable with them yet.

"Where is she right now?" Bail asked, brow furrowed.

"Working," Han grunted edgily, jerking his head towards the upper floors of the house. "She was on a conference with Winter and Evaan when I checked on her." He shook his head, loosening his arms. "That stuff helps focus her, y'know," he muttered, even if he was irritated – it wasn't necessarily out of line; Leia had been on radio silence for more than a few days, a check-in was warranted.

Bail nodded thoughtfully.

"I thought her nightmares had been better," he ventured.

Han shrugged stiffly, picking up his blaster and laying it on his thigh to start running the cloth over it again. He didn't say anything, and Bail pressed further –

"Is it being here? Learning about Anakin -?"

"Why don't you ask her?" Han interrupted.

"I don't want to bother her," Bail said honestly. "Not if bringing it up disturbs her."

Han paused for a moment, staring at him in disbelief, and then he took a pointed look around.

"We're in the middle of it," he noted incredulously – not bother her, when they were staying in the Naberrie family home, for the purpose of learning her biological mother's history and her family's memory of Anakin –

"Han," Bail snapped, frustrated. "You know what I mean. I'm not going to go accost her and demand to know the details of her nightmares."

"Why do you think _I'm_ going to tell you the details of her nightmares?" Han fired back. " _She_ can tell you whatever she wants," he added, bitterness creeping into his tone.

"I just want to know if there's any way I can help," Bail said firmly. "If it's Anakin, its par for the course, I know there's nothing I can do; if it's this thing that's going on between you and her – "

"What," Han interrupted dangerously, " _thing_?" he quoted.

Bail sighed, reaching up to rub his temple with two fingers, his expression heavy.

"I really don't mean to interfere," he began quietly.

"You sure, Viceroy?" Han asked curtly. "'Cause you sure are interferin'."

"No, I'm offering perspective," Bail corrected setting his jaw. "As I told – Leia – I was married, successfully, for a very long time – "

"I'm married successfully!"

"I'm not implying otherwise!" Bail insisted loudly. "You and Leia have an obvious sore spot, and I think I can offer some insight," he said. "I don't actually like seeing the two of you at odds," he admitted dryly.

Han set his shoulders back stiffly, reaching up to rub his neck. He hung his hand on his shoulder for a minute, a muscle in his jaw jumping tensely.

"You and Leia have a tendency to just – ignore anyone else's attempts to help you," Bail said in a clipped voice. "I respect that you keep each other's confidences, and no couple should rail about each other's faults to an outside party, it makes for bad perspectives, but sometimes there's no harm in having a conversation with someone else so you can have a _better_ conversation with each other."

He paused, and raised his brows at Han pointedly.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?" he demanded.

Han looked at him angrily.

"I can't have a conversation with her," he snapped. "She doesn't want to talk to me," he went on, narrowing his eyes, "but she told you somethin', and now you're on my case about it, like I fucked up somewhere and you need to fix it – "

"No, that's not what this is about; I don't think you've messed up. I only have a vague idea of what's going on – "

"Well I don't have any idea," Han hissed, pointing at Bail. "There's the _rub_ , Viceroy," he bit out. "You have a vague idea, and I don't know _shit_. This ain't about us needin' to cool down and get some sage, crotchety old married advice," he fired off sarcastically, "it's about how suddenly I don't know what the hell is going on with her, and I _always_ know."

Bail sighed heavily, falling silent.

"Well," he said after a moment. "When you think about what causes the tension between you, is there anything that comes to mind that you did…that might have made her angry?" he asked.

"No," Han barked, annoyed.

Bail raised his eyebrows.

"What, you mean what I said the other night? I already _got_ mine for that," Han muttered. "'S been goin' on longer than that, anyway."

"Obviously, or it would not have cropped up the way it did," Bail said crisply. "That isn't what I meant, exactly. If you think back to when all of this started, maybe you can identify something that…I don't know, bothered Leia?"

Han looked at his father-in-law for a long time. He leaned forward after a moment, eyeing Bail sharply, and narrowed his eyes.

"You know somethin' I don't?" he asked dully, grinding his teeth together, his shoulders tightening. It sure as hell sounded like the Viceroy was trying to smoothly manipulate him in the right direction.

Bail rubbed his forehead tensely again, his shoulders falling. He seemed to internally argue with himself for a moment, and then he shook his head, and chose to go a more neutral route.

"I can say, from experience, that arguments about," he paused heavily, "children," he said carefully, "are possibly the most terrible," he tilted his head at Han sincerely, "and it's because everyone feels like the bad guy."

Han looked taken aback, and then for a minute, he looked like he'd been slapped – what the hell _had_ Leia said to her father? His mind went in ten different directions – yes, _that_ was what they were fighting about, at least, despite her lack of communication, he was pretty sure it was; but getting Leia to face the subject head on was like pulling teeth, and she'd at some point seen fit to confess to her father that that was what this was all about?

He suddenly felt wary – wondering what she'd said, and how he'd been portrayed – and confused; why could she talk to Bail, and not him? – and angry, angry because this was so unfair to him – this was his life, _their_ life –

 _If you think back to when all of this started, maybe you can identify something that…I don't know, bothered Leia?_

Han wracked his brains, but he came up with nothing – all he'd tried to do for Leia, back when all this started, as Bail so vaguely put it, was _be_ there for her, and try to stay calm so she wouldn't freak out. He'd tried to be patient with her _since_ then, and _that_ wasn't working –

 _It's because everyone feels like the bad guy._

She was making him feel like the bad guy every time he tried to talk to her, and he was caught between a rock and a hard place; ignore it, and let it become more and more of a problem until everything was a problem, or push her too hard and make her angry at him, make her feel like he was dismissive of whatever was taking her a while to come to terms with –

He stared at Bail coldly, and then he very starkly remembered something the Viceroy himself had told him months ago, when he was blaming himself for Leia's dangerous spiral in the Jedi Temple.

He had to be there for her, but he didn't have to tolerate an unhealthy dynamic.

Han rubbed his forehead roughly and shook his head, his jaw tightening.

"We're done talkin'," he said to Bail – tiredly, without malice. It was a statement with plenty of finality, but no nastiness, and Bail sighed, shaking his head.

He started to say something, frowned, and then got up. He was a little frustrated, but a little hopeful – maybe something he'd said had helped. He glanced down at Han's dismantled weapon while he adjusted his robes, blinking a few times, and Han tilted his head up, hand braced on his knee.

"I'll talk to _Leia_ ," he added gruffly, as if clarifying his earlier statement.

Bail hesitated. He swallowed hard.

"I think she just needs to be reassured, Han," he offered quietly – cautious, because he didn't want to seem smug, and all-knowing; he wasn't sure at all what Leia needed, but he was perceptive, and he thought – maybe, just from something she'd said –that his daughter might be afraid that she was losing Han over a decision they hadn't even made yet - and perhaps he could pick up on that because he remembered his own wife, heartbroken and insecure, once asking him if he'd be happier with a woman who _could_ have children.

Han made a gruff noise, frowning. He looked at Bail skeptically.

"That she won't lose you," Bail added, inclining his head.

Han laughed a little curtly, and shook his head.

"Leia knows I'd never leave her," he muttered, shrugging off the advice. "That would make me insane," he added darkly, turning his attention to the blaster.

Bail smiled at him a little, and Han listened to him walk away, left alone out on the stone terrace. Meticulously, Han reassembled his blaster, ensuring it was clean, perfectly tight together -and he stopped, staring at the thing in his hands, frowning, considering the conversation he'd just had –

Leia couldn't possibly think he'd leave her if she didn't want –

* * *

Pooja had spent countless afternoons with her sister in the back courtyard of Varykino. When they were younger, they had played the sorts of games that children played; when they were older, they'd settled in the cushioned porch swing with – fruit punch, when they were teenagers; fizzy wine, when they were of age – and talked about boys and the city and their friends and politics –

It was where Ryoo had cried and cried when she told Pooja she was pregnant and she didn't know what to do about it and the man responsible was long gone; where Pooja had promised her that they'd tell their parents together and everything would be fine – where Pooja had quietly told Ryoo that she wanted to join the Rebellion, and Ryoo had covered her mouth, terrified that the Emperor had ears on them even there –

\- and it was where the two sisters sat now, alone and partaking in a batch of iced honey kaffe their mother had concocted, reflecting on the events so far –

"I hardly ever get you alone anymore," Pooja sighed, feigning offense.

She and Ryoo sat facing each other in the swing, rocking steadily, slowly, back and forth on it – Pooja with her knees drawn up, Ryoo with hers crossed tightly. Pooja tugged on the sturdy silk ropes that fashioned the swing to the balcony ceiling.

"I know, my kids are so annoying," Ryoo answered fondly.

"I love them," Pooja promised.

"Me too," Ryoo agreed, spreading her arm out and rattling the ice in the glass, "but look – or rather, listen – to how loveable they are from a distance."

"Listen? I don't hear – "

"Exactly," drawled Ryoo smoothly, and Pooja giggled, muffling it in a sip of her drink.

Ryoo sighed, tilting her head back, basking for a moment in the silence, and the fact that her husband had promised to keep the kids away for a while so she and Pooja could have some much needed sister time to talk about the week's events so far – after all, they were closest to age to Luke and Leia; they were the ones who were experiencing much of the newly discovered, unfathomable shock; their parents and grandparents had all lived as adults in the Old Republic, and though shocked, had plenty of context for what had happened.

Pooja and Ryoo had been children, and thought Anakin dead and Vader an intangible villain; Luke and Leia had been babies, and thought Vader to be the only thing that ever was – _they_ were the cousins, the same generation; the ones before them, and after them – Ryoo's children – were in different planes of discovery.

"So," Pooja sighed, running a hand through her tight curls. "What do you think about all of this?" she asked. "You know, to be blunt."

"You sound like Mami," Ryoo said, with a good-natured laugh.

"Well, it's not gossip if you're talking about your own family, is it?" Pooja asked wryly.

Ryoo grinned, and put a hand to her chest.

"I, personally, have been thinking about how hilarious it is that Gran-Papa was worried you were going to go be a Senator and get murdered but instead you came waltzing back to Theed with cousins in tow."

Pooja shrugged dramatically. Ryoo sat forward a little, arching her back away from the armrest of the wooden swing.

"This has all been completely indescribable," she said honestly, pressing a hand to her chest. "When Bail and Luke first told this story, I thought they were joking. A week later, Princess Leia and Luke Skywalker are in the sun room, and Han Solo picks up my kid," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. "These larger-than-life – I mean, they were just these almost mythical creatures, and they're our relatives."

"And they're normal," Pooja noted.

"So normal," Ryoo agreed, her eyes wide. "Real humans!"

"Just Leia, Luke, and Han," Pooja went on.

"I mean," Ryoo said, deadpan, "I've watched that woman build a government over the past year, and a few days ago I saw her go at it with her husband - -well, snip at each other," she amended. "It was amazing."

"Oh, Ryoo!" Pooja crowed, tilting her head. "Don't say that."

"No, I – not amazing, I'm not happy they had an argument," Ryoo said hastily. "It's just, well," she flushed, and let out her breath. "It's nice to know people like her have everyday problems, too," she confessed, feeling a little guilty.

"I guess I see where you're coming from," Pooja allowed.

"I don't _want_ them to have problems," Ryoo insisted. "I like Luke and Leia – can you imagine what it would have been like growing up with them? Mami would have gone grey years ago," she joked.

"They'd have been like Maiah and Iver, I expect," Pooja said.

Ryoo nodded thoughtfully, and set her glass down between her feet, locking it firmly into place with her ankles and leaning forward.

"It's all so terrible, what happened," she said quietly. "Everything that happened with Aunt Mé-Mé was always terrible, and then we were so sad when Ani didn't come to the funeral – and that he became Vader?" she shook her head, clicking her teeth together. "I wish they'd known Padmé," she sighed. "Doesn't it break your heart? What if we'd never known Mami?"

"Well, then we wouldn't have ever known to miss her," Pooja said quietly, lifting one shoulder. "It wouldn't hurt us."

"I suppose, if you think about it that way," Ryoo agreed. "I can't, though."

"That's because you know her," Pooja said, holding her hand out. "It's like, we can't really think of Darth Vader _as Uncle Ani_ ," she said, the words absurd and foreign on her tongue. "And Leia and Luke don't really have any concept of him as…anything other than Vader."

Ryoo shuddered.

"I prefer Ani," she said.

Pooja rolled her eyes.

"That's a _given_ ," she whispered.

Ryoo sighed, tangling her fingers in the ends of her hair.

"I feel like I can't _miss_ him now," she said. "Like it's _wrong_."

"No, don't feel that way," Pooja said earnestly. "Luke would tell us not to feel that way. The Anakin we knew was sincere at the time, don't you think?"

Ryoo shrugged sadly, and then nodded. She ran her hand over her scalp with a small smile.

"He learned how to do hair so quickly," she reflected.

Pooja rested her elbow on the back of the swing, pressing her knuckles lightly into her temple.

"You think he'd have been a good father?" she asked quietly. "If he'd…if he hadn't," she waved her hand, thinking of the ominous specter Darth Vader had always been to her. "You know."

Ryoo tapped the rim of her glass.

"He was good to us," she offered, tilting her head to the side. She sighed, shaking her head.

"Luke says he rejected the Dark Side for them. That's how Luke got through to him," Pooja murmured. "I like to think about that. It makes it better."

Ryoo nodded thoughtfully.

"I still can't see how it happened," she said softly. "Turn against the Jedi, the Republic – Padmé? How does love _ever_ go that sour?" Ryoo bit her lip. "It frightens me."

"I don't understand it either," Pooja said frankly. "And it seems like…the only people who really understood it, or were there, are all dead, and we're just picking up the pieces." She twirled one of her curls again. "Putting everything back together – on a personal level, and in the government."

"I know that so much more went on back then than just Anakin and Padmé," Ryoo said earnestly, "but don't you think it's daunting that in the middle of it all was just two people trying to do what _everyone_ does? Fall in love? Exist with each other?" she asked. "And then they ended up on opposite sides, or something, and everyone was angry, and miserable, and Luke and Leia were drawn into it, too, like little re-start buttons," she shook her head. "How can such tiny things be connected to such big things?"

Pooja chewed on her lip.

"The galaxy is strange," she murmured.

"All of Gran-Papa's ethereal speeches about the Force seem more relevant, now," Ryoo remarked.

Pooja cocked her brow.

"Yeah, it makes you hope Han and Leia never get divorced," she joked wryly. "What if the galactic order collapsed again – "

Ryoo laughed good-naturedly, shaking her head, and sighing.

"Those two, poor things," she sympathized. "Marriage is hard enough without everyone watching and gossiping," she frowned, and grimaced, her cheeks flushing again, "and I still think it might have been a mistake to bring the kids, they're _so_ overwhelming," she trailed off a little, self-conscious.

"They're kids," Pooja soothed. "They aren't any more or less wild than your average kid," she said with a shrug.

"I know," Ryoo said softly.

"Well," Pooja said after a moment. "Did Whyler talk to Han on the _Falcon_ the other day…?"

Ryoo nodded.

"He said he felt really slimy, though; he was mad at me for asking him to say something," she said, her face falling. "I don't like being nosy, but I think we all have enough on our plate. I didn't want my kids making anything harder – they're little, they don't need to be here, anyway; they're not a part of what happened back then."

"Was Han mad?" Pooja asked warily.

"Whyler said he pretty obviously didn't want to talk about it," Ryoo said. "He _did_ say Han told him Leia has never been pregnant, which is a _relief,_ becauseI thought she might have lost one recently, you know, the Media's been speculating – "

Pooja cleared her throat abruptly, tilting her head, and leaning forward on the swing.

"Leia," she said smoothly, effortlessly cutting her sister off and looking past her at the open door of the house.

Ryoo turned around, clutching at the drink balanced between her ankles to keep it from falling. She blanched, then turned red, and swallowed hard, unsure if Leia had overheard them talking about her, or if Pooja had saved the day in time.

"Leia," she echoed her sister's sentiment, hoping she sounded welcoming.

Their newfound cousin stood just on the threshold of the courtyard porch, hesitating, her face unreadable. She tilted her head a little, probably in acknowledgement of their greeting, and Pooja thought she looked a little uncomfortable – she wasn't sure if Leia had heard anything; Pooja had spotted her as Ryoo was still talking, though it didn't _look_ like Leia had been eavesdropping.

Pooja swung her legs off the swing and sat forward, arching her brows.

"Will you join us?" she invited. "My mother's iced honey-kaffe is really good," she tempted.

Leia smiled faintly and nodded, venturing out on the patio. She looked at the pitcher on a table and went to stand near one of the pillars, facing Ryoo. Her cousin looked back at her warily, and Leia cleared her throat.

"I didn't intend to overhear," she began.

"No, it's my fault for being so cavalier," Ryoo said hastily, her face filling with worry. "Leia, I'm so sorry," she started.

Leia smiled a little tightly.

"Is everyone talking about me?" she asked dryly - she was sure, after last night, they were, and she tried to look lighthearted.

Pooja turned to her with a pitcher, toasting her with it.

"Welcome to the family," she said pleasantly, cocking an eyebrow.

Leia's smile relaxed a little, at that – it seemed like a fitting thing to say; that's what having a family consisted of, to an extent: caring gossip.

Ryoo sat forward earnestly.

"We just want you and Luke to be comfortable here," she said, "and I'd never forgive myself if I was being ignorant – "

"You aren't ignorant," Leia said, soft and firm. "Ryoo, I think your children are lovely," she said sincerely.

Ryoo sighed heavily, closing her eyes in relief.

"Thank you," she said, accepting the compliment. "I'm glad you think so. I want you to like them – but Gran-Mama and I both have made invasive comments to you, and I feel horrible about it. If it's causing a problem with you and Han, I feel even – "

"Did Han say that?" Leia interrupted quietly. "Han told Whyler we were having problems?"

Ryoo looked taken aback.

"No," she said. "No – well, I don't _believe_ he did," she said, straightening her back – her husband had only told her that Han dismissed any notion that the kids were a burden to Leia, and told Ryoo to mind her own business about other people's pain.

She went silent, watching Leia's face – and the Princess looked composed, but a little disturbed. There was tightness around her mouth that indicated either discomfort, or anger – Ryoo wasn't sure; Ryoo was only ever good at identifying her children's moods.

Leia took a deep breath.

"You've all been welcoming," she said honestly. "You shouldn't blame yourself," she said firmly. "I am often less, ah, composed," Leia gestured to her face, "than I am in public and it is not…anyone else's fault."

Pooja smiled.

"Hush, Leia," she said blithely. "There's no one around who cares if you're human," she advised, "remember – you didn't come here as a Diplomat-Princess."

Leia smiled a little faintly, and nodded.

"Things will work out," Ryoo said, speaking up cautiously. "Whyler and I have plenty of fights," she offered.

Leia opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it, pressing her lips together tightly. Pooja noticed she looked anxious, and figured, intuitively, that she was trying not to cry, so she hurried over and put an arm around her, smiling encouragingly.

"It's alright," she said softly, beckoning to Ryoo. "We'll distract you – we'll talk about silly things," she said. "I've slept with that senator from Bespin, the weird one with the orange tattoo," she confided.

Leia laughed hoarsely, tilting her head fondly at Pooja.

"Oh, come on, Pooja, don't make it a gossip-fest about who we've slept with, I'll be talking for _years_ ," she whined.

"I'll be talking for twenty seconds," Leia countered shakily, offering a smile.

Pooja giggled.

"Ryoo was a deviant," she teased. "Her stories are jaw-dropping."

"I'm a respectable mother _now_ ," Ryoo muttered.

The sisters smiled at her, and hoped Leia would take them up on the offer – they really didn't want her to think they thought of her, and of Luke, as animals in a zoo to be casually dissected in whispered conversations.

Leia looked like she would give in, but hesitated, and Pooja turned, realizing Leia was looking over her shoulder.

"Hey," Han said shortly, stepping out to join them. He made an awkward movement with his hand, like he was feeling for his blaster – but he wasn't wearing his holster, and he frowned, unable to rest his hand lazily there. He crossed his arms instead, and nodded at both Pooja and Ryoo, before looking straight at Leia.

"Been lookin' for you," he said, without preamble. "We need to talk."

Leia blinked at him.

"Can it wait, Han?" she asked tersely.

"No," he retorted, calm, but stubborn.

Leia carefully avoided looking at Pooja and Ryoo, and stepped forward, slipping around Pooja and heading towards the house. Han caught her shoulders gently and shook his head, turning and pointing vaguely at the courtyard, down the path. Leia looked at him stiffly, and then turned and headed off in that direction, Han following her a few seconds later.

Pooja took up leaning against the pillar the same way Leia had, and looked at her sister silently. Ryoo rested her chin on her palm and looked wary, her gaze shifting from Pooja, out to the direction in which Han and Leia had left. She gave a quiet whistle, and Pooja nodded, frowning lightly, and figured she'd better go warn a handful of the others not to go looking for them.

* * *

Near the tributary stream that ran long the expanse of the Naberrie property, Leia stopped, and sat down on a low stone hedge, running her hand over the native ivy that grew beautifully in the divots. Han stood in front of her, his arms folded, digging the toe of his boot into the soil on the bank, his expression taut.

Leia ran her hands through her hair tensely, and let out a breath, frustrated, and feeling out of control.

"Why are we out here?" she asked, harsher than she meant to.

Han looked up.

"So you don't feel trapped," he replied bluntly.

He hadn't wanted to pull her into their room in Varykino and lock the door; he hadn't wanted her balking on him because she didn't want someone to overhear them or worry about them. Leia blinked at him wordlessly, drawing her bottom lip into her mouth and pinning it with her teeth. He didn't say anything else, and she grit her teeth in the silence.

"What do you want to talk about?" she blurted edgily.

"What the hell do you think?" Han answered dully.

Leia looked over his shoulder, instead of at him, her face setting stubbornly. Her eyes flicked to his for a moment, and then she lashed out –

"Our _problems_?" she guessed. "Or have you already discussed them enough with Ryoo's husband?"

Han's jaw twitched angrily, but he didn't take the bait.

"I didn't say a damn thing," he defended coolly.

"I heard Ryoo – "

"That guy asked me if you lost a baby or somethin'," Han interrupted sharply. "'Cause he thought his kids were botherin' you. 'Cause they are," Han said bluntly. "The kid _thing_ is botherin' you, and we're not gonna let it go anymore. You can't get mean like this – "

"I'm not being mean to her children!" Leia snapped defensively, her temper flaring.

"No," Han agreed harshly, refusing to back down, "'cause that'd be unfair, and you're better than that. You're being mean to me instead."

He paused, fighting a sour grimace that sprung to his lips, because he thought he sounded pathetic, and weak, and overly emotional. But –

"You're hurting me," he forced out. "You're…fucking hurting _me_ , Leia."

She went completely silent, her face pale. He dipped his head, scuffing the toe of his boot again.

"It takes a lot of nerve for you to jump my case about Whyler when you've said more about this to your old man than you'll say to me," he said bitterly.

Leia's heart leapt into her throat and she folded her arms in front of her like a shield. She said nothing, because he was right; he'd already called her on it, and he probably had a right to call her on it again. She clutched at the material of her blouse, twisting her fingers into it at her sides, and narrowed her eyes –

"You want to talk about this now?" she asked.

" _When_?" Han asked flatly. "You've been shutting me out for weeks, and maybe I could put up with it a little longer, and let you lie about how you just want to get through this – "

"I'm not lying."

"Then you're making excuses, Sweetheart, because you wouldn't talk to me at home either," he snapped firmly. "You're done making excuses, you're done lettin' this get in the way of what we're tryin' to do here, and I'm done lettin' you treat me like my part in it _doesn't_ matter –"

"Han, that's not," Leia broke in. "I don't think you don't matter. You matter _too_ much. That's why it's so hard."

"Fine," Han said, accepting it, filing it away for later. "See? We've got to talk then. I don't want to live like this Leia – "

She gave him a scathing, scared sort of look that startled him – her face was shocked, and then fiercely armored, like she was protecting herself, and she said, icily –

"I guess we should have talked about it before we got married."

Han went silent.

"I guess we should have," he answered.

He stared at her a long time, trying to figure out what she meant by that – _kriff, Leia; you can't give up based on a fight we haven't even had!_ —and she was looking at him with such betrayal in her eyes, and he struggled to define where it was coming from –

"Han, _please_ ," she said, her voice cracking.

He blinked, and cocked his head like he was hearing something else, taking a few steps towards her – _I don't want to live like this_ , he'd said – _You matter too much,_ she'd said. He narrowed his eyes, ducking his head down a little to catch her eye.

"I am _not_ trying to leave you, Leia," he growled fiercely. He uncrossed his arms and pointed at her, crooking his finger a little as if to physically hook her attention. "I'm tryin' to get it," he said, frustrated. _"Talk_ to me. Talk to me, Sweetheart."

She looked at his hand, and then up at his face. She flicked her eyes down stiffly, and Han lowered his hand. He turned, walking away, and then ran his hand through his hair in frustration, trying not to start screaming at her. He felt twisted, and awful, and he turned back, and flung his arm out roughly.

"Fine, you don't want to talk? Let's have a fucking fight," he barked, planting his feet. He jabbed his finger at her. "Why do _you_ get to decide, without me, that we don't have kids?" he demanded – and he felt like he was shattering a taboo that had lingered between them since that incident a month ago.

Leia sat up straight, colour draining from her face. She clenched her teeth, biting back a shocked sob, and shook her head.

"I don't," she burst out. "I didn't _decide_ anything!"

"Then what are you _doing_ , Leia?" he asked desperately, smacking one of his hands into the other. He took a few steps towards her. "You won't talk to me about it - when you thought you were pregnant, you told me you didn't want it, and the other night it sounded like you just…dismissed the whole idea!" He tilted his head to keep her gaze when she looked away. "If you don't want them, fine, but you've got to tell me – if somethin else is botherin' you, I need to know – "

Leia clasped her hands together rightly, squeezing until her knuckles were white, trying to keep her hands from shaking. She loosened her grip after a moment, panic clawing at her.

"What if I _don't_ want them?" Leia challenged, wiping her face furiously. "What if I don't, at all – _ever_?"

Han blinked, his jaw tightening. He gave a rough, uncoordinated little shrug.

"I don't know what you need to hear from me," he growled tensely. He ran a hand over the back of his neck roughly. "We don't have to have kids," he said bluntly. "It can be just us. I don't know what it's like to have 'em, so I don't know what I'm missin.'" He shook his head, looking at her harshly. "If that's it, if that's what this is, then, I want you to tell me, point blank, that you don't want them. Ever. Quit dancin' around the issue and hopin' I'll forget it."

He repeated her words pointedly, and stared at her, waiting – and Leia was silent, her eyes shimmering, and her lashes trembling, and he reigned in his intensity a little –

"I think you do, Leia."

She crossed her arms defensively, making herself small. Her nails pricked into her skin at the elbow.

"Why?" she gasped. "Because I' m a _woman,_ so I must want children?" she asked. "Because I love you?"

"You know I don't think that way," Han retorted. "There's plenty of reasons not to have kids," he allowed, "if you really don't, then I got a right to know why you don't want them, and I got a right to have a part in the decision," he paused, giving her a piercing look, "but I want you to decide what _you_ want because of your own reasons," he said, seizing on the final point: "not because of Vader."

Leia flinched.

"And since when do you want them so badly, Han?" she burst out hoarsely. "You said you didn't care. You told me it wasn't a deal breaker. I _trusted_ that – "

He reached out to touch her shoulders.

"It's not, Leia, it's _not_!" he placated rapidly. "I meant that, kriff, I never thought about any of this, but I've got you, and we got married, and I started to get what people see in it – "

"You don't have to have kids just because you're married," Leia said.

"No," he snapped, "but you can't decide you don't want them because of Vader."

"Yes, I can," she growled fiercely.

"That's bull _shit_! Sweetheart, that's letting him run your whole life!" Han argued. "I need to know what's going on in your head," Han said desperately. "Leia, you've _got_ to tell me what _you_ want." He flung a hand out. "Hell, you told Rouge to her face that you'd never have married a man who wouldn't be a good father – why the hell would you say that if it's _not_ something you want?"

She turned her face away angrily, trying to keep her jaw stiff – _ooh_ , he'd been holding onto that for a while. He felt bad for making her cry, but if she'd just talked to him more about this as it built up, they wouldn't have gotten to this point. He reached over to touch her hair, and she shifted away, curling into herself, and he felt it like a knife to the gut.

"I don't think this would be such a damn hard conversation for you if it was as simple as you not wantin' a baby," he tried.

"You don't?" she snapped incredulously, as if he was missing something important.

He gave her an incredulous look.

"Sure, Leia, if you didn't want one, you'd just tell me flat-out!" he said. "That's how you are – remember all that, about decisions, and makin' 'em?" he reminded her. "You struggle with the whole damn process, but you don't waiver on the outcome – "

Leia unfolded her arms jerkily and held her palms up like claws, miming shaking him.

"I can barely think about it without shutting down," she interrupted hoarsely, her voice raw, and her words suddenly coming a mile a minute. "If I do think about it, and it comes down to the decision, and I can't do it, or can't get to a place where I want it – and I would never have a baby without being in that place, Han – then I have to tell _you_ it's never going to happen," she said, pausing to gasp for a breath, and going on – "I now I _know_ you like the idea, and I see you with Ryoo's kids, and I _know_ this is a fight that tears couples apart, and I feel miserable because I don't want you to miss out, and if I – and if we talk about this, and we never come to an agreement, and I can never get myself in a good place, you'll be trapped in a life you changed your mind about, or you'll leave," she cried, "and I don't want you to be unhappy, and I don't want to lose you, either."

Han looked at her, stunned. He lifted his foot and braced it against the hedge she sat on, leaning forward heavily against his knee, and then he lowered it and reached forward, gently placing his hands on her face and shaking his head.

"You don't think that," he said. "Leia, don't be stupid," he rambled tensely. "You aren't that stupid. You're smarter than that. You know me better than that."

He pulled her forward, moving closer, and tucked her head against his shoulder, leaning into her. She grabbed onto his arms tightly, her fingers curling into his shirt, and trembling.

"You damn well better have more faith in me than that," he said hoarsely.

Leia could hear the hurt in his tone, and she closed her eyes, pressing her face against his shirt in relief, and contrition – she _did_ have faith in him, she did love him, but she was so realistic, and so logical, and she knew that there were plenty of people in the galaxy who loved each other more than life itself and still didn't work out.

She had told her father, last year, that it would never be like that for herself and Han, but she hadn't been through everything she could go through, yet, and these were such big moments to weather.

Han kissed the top of her head, running his fingertips over her scalp quietly.

"You didn't wanna talk because you didn't think we'd agree?" he murmured.

She pulled back, reaching up to wipe her face, feeling silly, but answering honestly –

"Well, if we just, never talked about it, and never got to the point where we reached an impasse," she said shakily, "then I wouldn't have to…know that you wanted them," she trailed off, shaking her head. She knew how stupid it sounded, now that she was voicing it - avoiding a topic just to avoid ever possible disagreeing on it - but it was a real fear for her. "Han, you were just so, so," she said, stumbling over her words, " _blasé_ , when I had that scare," she said, her tone hushed. "I felt completely wrecked at the idea that I was going to have a baby – I didn't really expect to feel so, I don't know," she mused, "sick, or horrified, I knew it had concerns about the Force but – that feeling came out of nowhere, and _you_ seemed happy. You seemed _happy,_ and I... I felt nothing but dread, and then I felt bad for feeling that negative."

She ran a hand over her face again, closing her eyes as more tears spilled out.

"I was just trying to get a handle on what I wanted to tell you about it, and how I felt about it, and then it almost got worse here," she took a shaky breath, "because you're so good with these little kids, and it's so sweet," she bit her lip, "and it makes me even more conflicted. You're so calm. And you were so ready to deal with it," she shook her head, almost angry at herself, "and I wasn't."

Han looked at her a minute, and then he sat down next to her. He drew his leg up and ran a hand over his mouth, grinning sheepishly.

"Ah, hell, Leia," he muttered. "Look, I was – kriff, I was terrified," he admitted, laughing under his breath. "I was just tryin' to be laid back about the whole thing so you wouldn't freak out."

"I freaked out."

"I know," he snorted quietly. He sighed, lowering his hand, and gesturing as he spoke: "'M not sayin' I didn't like the idea, though," he went on honestly. "I was serious when I told you it wasn't a deal breaker, but I guess once I got over the shock that it might happen before we'd decided anything, I was up for it," he shrugged hesitantly, and then he rubbed his neck, laughing a little incredulously - "You ought to cut me a break though," he muttered, hoping it didn't piss her off - "I didn't start pressurin' you for a baby. I didn't all of a sudden start in on you like the Media. I just wanted to talk about what happened, 'specially since it kind of occurred to me that I did want that...for us."

Leia compressed her lips, and turned towards him, crossing her legs. She placed her hands on her knees.

"So," she began hoarsely. "You…want kids?" she ventured.

Han thought about it for a moment, and then tilted his head.

"Yeah, I do," he said gently.

Leia nodded, looking down at her ankles. She ran her hand over her shin, and then took a deep breath.

"When I mentioned to my father that I'd thought I was pregnant, he assumed you were the one who didn't want it," she murmured.

"Would you really have not wanted it?" Han asked curiously.

"No. I don't know. I wasn't – it was a false alarm, so I don't know," she stammered uncertainly. "I've been so afraid to hear you say you want a baby, because it means I need to make a conscious effort to tackle my hang-ups on _that_ issue. I know I'm not ready. I know I don't want a baby right now."

"Not…right now," Han repeated slowly.

Leia covered her face, and when she pushed her hands through her hair, and looked up, she was struggling with tears again, because he looked hopeful, and she felt so much like this was one thing she might end up at permanent odds with him over, and she hated the thought.

"Han, it's not just Vader," she said weakly. "It's not only that I worry about the Force, and bad blood, and my own abilities to raise a baby. I don't know if it's fair to have a baby when we're so – famous, or infamous, depending on whom you ask. I don't know if I'll be a _good_ mother. And I don't, I don't," she paused, licking her lips, "I don't know if I can have them at all," she said hoarsely.

Her hands drifted to her stomach, and she kneaded her knuckles against her hipbone, and ran her fingertips over the implant in her lower abdomen.

"I don't know what kind of damage the Death Star did. A physician on Yavin mentioned it might be a side effect, but back then I wasn't thinking…it would ever matter."

Han reached for her hands and twisted his fingers into hers.

She closed her eyes tightly.

"It's something like, if no one ever tells me it's not possible, I can't feel heartbroken about it – so I avoided asking, and if we do this, if I have to ask."

"It's okay," Han said simply.

She looked up through wet lashes.

"I can't give you an answer right now," she said emphatically. "I need you to understand. I don't know what I want. I don't know what I _can_ want. And that's why I just...balked at talking about it. I know it sounds like I'm saying no."

Han squeezed her hands, and pulled one into his lap, resting it on his thigh lightly.

"Hey, I didn't mean to make it seem like you – we – had to decide _right_ now," he said gruffly. "If I was makin' it seem like that, 'm sorry."

Leia nodded – she'd probably projected that opinion more than he'd actually implied it, but she held her head in her palm hesitantly.

"I don't know _when_ ," she said in a small voice. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, it's okay," Han agreed. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead into hers and gathering her hair in his palm. "I get it, Leia, it's a big decision."

"Really big," she whispered. "The rest of our lives," she stressed. "I still want a little time with just you – some more with just you."

He nodded, and kissed her cheek.

"You got to talk to me, though," he said. "I had no idea what I was doing wrong."

He sat back a little, and then he loosened his hand from her hair, brushing it back from her face.

"Pretty sure I told you I only wanted kids with _you_ , anyway," he reminded her. "Huh? I'm not goin' anywhere. It'd be easy to just get a kid on some woman, if that was all it's about," he pointed out callously. " _You're_ the part that matters."

Leia lifted her shoulders, curling them closer to her and smiling at him with compressed lips. She nodded in understanding, and he sat back, his shoulders straight, and he nodded back – must have been something Bail had been trying to tell him – she'd misinterpreted some of how he acted, and they had never fought this battle before, so she had no template for how to analyze it. Pity - that she'd gotten so inside her head about it, instead of telling him all the things that bothered her about the idea.

He let out a slow breath and leaned in to kiss her lips, brushing his knuckles under her chin against her throat.

"You got anything else?" he asked. "Is all this just because you got spooked I'd run off on you?"

Leia lifted her head, her nose bumping against his as she looked at him.

"I don't think that little of you," she said earnestly. "Han, I know how much I mean to you. I know you wouldn't just quit. I just…you've always made my happiness such a priority, even when it wasn't what you wanted," she said, thinking of the manner in which he'd stepped back, when her father was just getting his bearings in the world, about the hugely public wedding they'd had, which Han had no real interest in. "It wasn't as simple as thinking you'd turn your back. I was afraid you'd…it's complex. You do so much for me. I am well aware of how many times you have swallowed your pride or bitten your tongue or taken shit for my sake. Your happiness is so important to me. I don't want you to be _un_ happy, or to miss out on something you want, because it's not something I want. If that's what ends up happening," she said uncertainly.

"You don't have to have a baby to make me happy, Leia," he said seriously.

"I know," Leia retorted. "I know I don't, and I _wouldn't_ , I would never have a baby because someone else wanted me to. That's what makes me feel so terrible when I'm having a day where I think it's the worst idea in the world. I'll start to think - _this is something I can give Han, that will illustrate how much I appreciate his love_ \- " she broke off, shaking her head, "but that's absurd, isn't it? A baby isn't a gift, it's not a bargain, it's a _life._ Sentience. I know in my soul that a baby that is not wholly wanted should never be brought into the world. It's that there is no way to compromise on this particular topic. We can't have half a baby, some of the time – you see? If it came down to us not agreeing…one of us loses."

She bit her lip, her eyes soft and earnest.

"I don't want you to lose, Han."

Han smiled a little.

"Yeah, good point," he agreed. "But you got to know, me thinkin' I want a kid is not gonna outweigh the fact that I want you. I have you. 'M not gonna give you up over something that doesn't exist yet, and sure as hell won't exist if you're gone."

Leia tilted her head.

"You just…tell me you'll think about it," he said. "Think about it like it's just us, eh? Don't make it about Vader."

"It's not just Vader," she whispered, repeating her earlier words. "It's…pressure, and I'm scared, and," she trailed off, and just shook her head, biting her lip. "It scares me, Han."

Han smiled at her.

"Leia, c'mon, you're brave. You're the strongest person I know."

She drew her knees up and hugged them to her chest. She rested her cheek on them and smiled at him gratefully, colour slowly returning to her cheeks. She took a few deeps breaths and sat up straighter, clearing her throat.

"When you said that you were keeping your cool so I wouldn't freak out," she said, taking another deep breath. "That…means," she sighed, "a lot." She stretched her legs out, and shifted them, leaning forward. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do that."

"You have to be able to count on me," Han countered. "You deal with enough – "

Leia nodded.

"I _do_ count on you," she said. "That doesn't mean you're not allowed to have moments. I don't have a monopoly on neurosis here," she laughed a little. "If something scares you, or shakes you, you can tell me. You can need me as _much_ as I need you," she bit her lip for a moment, "my relationship with you is positive. You aren't going to damage me by being…human."

She lifted her shoulders.

"Think about it," she said softly. "I was hurting us because I wouldn't talk to you but…you felt like you couldn't tell _me_ you were nervous."

Han draped his hands over his legs and nodded slowly. He reached over and slung his arm over her lap, puling her legs against his. She shifted, and leaned into his side, head on his shoulder. She wiped her eyes on his shirt, able to relax. She closed her eyes, and sighed quietly.

"Yeah," Han said to himself after a moment. "Yeah, this is better. I _should_ have started a fight in the shower the other night," he said seriously.

"I don't know," Leia murmured softly. "That would have wasted a lot of hot water. You'd have missed out on what we did instead," she teased gently.

"Mmhmm," Han drawled, "but if you'd been less stressed, maybe you'd have gotten more out of it," he said pointedly.

Leia nodded in agreement – he had her there; she was fairly sure she and Han had ended that shower not only with their ongoing argument unresolved, but also with more sexual tension than relief.

"Well," she said softly, kissing his shoulder. "That wasn't your fault."

He shrugged.

"I could make it up to you," he said, feigning indecision.

"You don't owe me," she laughed quietly.

She sat up, and faced him.

"I'm sorry," she said, quiet and honest.

He nodded.

"I forgive you," he said, echoing the exchange they'd been through a few nights ago. "I'm sorry to, Sweetheart."

Leia let one leg hang off the stone hedge, and crooked the other at an angle towards her. Han leaned back, laying on his back on the grass and staring up at the trees above them, quiet, and relieved – he told himself that next time, he'd be quicker to have it out with Leia if she showed signs of getting inside herself and trying to dissociate from topics – but at the same time, he felt like they were moving farther and farther away from the days when that was her reaction to things.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and then cleared his throat, and sat up. He ran a hand through his hair, stood up, and shrugged off his vest, throwing it next to her. He pulled off his shirt on one fluid movement next, bunching it up and thrusting it into her lap. Then he propped his foot up on a rock, and started un-tucking his trousers, and loosening his boots.

"Han," Leia asked, amused. "What are you - ?"

He turned and jerked his chin at the stream and then arched his brows at her suggestively. She shook her head, and he nodded, kicking off his boots and shoving them near a rock. He undid his belt - shedding clothing like he could shed the bitterness and tension of the past month.

"Strip, Princess."

"In your dreams."

He strolled over to her, his trousers loose and barely hanging on his hips, and reached for her waist, pulling her towards him. She squealed a little, twisting half-heartedly in an escape attempt, and he unbuttoned the clasps down the back of her shirt, loosening it and pulling it off.

"You're goin' in this water with me," he growled, pressing his lips to her throat.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed close to him, tilting his chin up and kissing him, drowning a soft, exuberant laugh against his lips. His hands felt good, splayed over her lower back, warm as the sun, and his skin felt even better when she held on to him, and felt none of the tension in his muscles that had been there for the past few days. Consummate relief coursed through her, and she held him tightly for a moment, embracing it, while his hands tangled into her hair and kept her close.

* * *

 _so, there was a line in the last chapter, in the nightmare, that was really important to all of this, Leia's notion that Vader stole her confidence in what she wanted in life ... very important._

 _feedback appreciated!_

 _-alexandra_


	9. Eight

_a/n: probably (maybe definitely?) my favorite chapter. thanks for your responses to the last one - more talking here! so much more talking._

* * *

 ** _Eight_**

* * *

Leia felt better; she felt infinitely _better_ , following the waterside heart-to-heart between herself and Han that served to loosen the tension that had woven itself into their relationship for the past month. It didn't matter that they hadn't definitively come to a conclusion on the subject; she found relief in the understanding that he wasn't going down a path far different than her, he wasn't spiraling into a mire of deprivation: she took pressure off of herself immediately, and took some deep _breaths_.

The day of the hunt dawned, and Han offered to back out in favor of staying back with her – he knew the purpose of the outing in the first place was to subtract the people who, as Whyler put it, had _married in_ to the family out of the equation – alleviate pressure by eliminating numbers, which was likely a good idea, seeing how wildly things had gotten out of control at the crowded dinner table – but he figured a day of nothing but talking about Padmé, and thus inevitably, Anakin Skywalker, would be difficult for Leia. Ruwee was staying back with them, as well, and Han still had some unsavory feelings towards the guy after what he'd thrown at Leia over wine and dessert – Leia placated, and sent him off.

She didn't want him disappointing Indy, who was so thrilled that Han was joining them – it made up for the fact that Luke Skywalker was not - she wanted Han out in the hunting fields with her father as an extra instructor, because she kept having comically macabre visions of him managing to kill himself on accident after surviving a brush with the Death Star, and ultimately, she sent him off firmly for the same reason she had told him she would be okay without him when she first sat down with her father to hear her origin story: because this was a conversation she needed to have with Luke, and a process she shared with _Luke_.

She could tell Han all about it later, and he could make his amusing remarks and give his objective insight – and she _would_ share it with Han, because she loved him, and she told him everything; but she and Luke were connected to this through blood – Han, Han was here to support her, not to discover his past.

The departure for the hunt took quite a while, which seemed to shock Luke. Bail and Leia, not hunters themselves, were unsurprised by it because they'd been familiar with the practice on Alderaan – the packing of lunches, gathering of weapons, planning of routes, finding appropriate camouflage attire and animal bait – they were all finally off mid-morning, Darred, Whyler, Han, Bail, and Indy – and the core of the Naberrie family remained at the house with no structured plan at all.

They merely had the time, and the place, to talk some more, and in the middle of the bright, open sunroom where Leia had first seen all of these faces for the first time, they had an old dusty Hydenock trunk; a time capsule, really, hastily stored away a quarter of a century ago, and filled with the salvaged, guarded, and protected possessions of Padmé Amidala.

Leia sat in the corner of one of the comfortable sofas, her feet curled up under her, leaning against the armrest casually. She felt at calm, she felt at home, if a little awkwardly so – and it was nice; she tried to relax into that feeling. Luke, so effortlessly integrated and peaceful, made it easier to trust the atmosphere here, and trust that she wasn't being viewed as some kind of exhibit, or zoo animal – though Leia thought she'd done plenty to invite that sort of scrutiny: waking everyone up screaming, bickering with her husband –

She liked the Naberries; she made a conscious effort to define them as family and to an extent, she thought they shared an automatic, accelerated bond due to their unwilling connection to Darth Vader.

Leia had never particularly expected to bond with _anyone_ over Vader – and yet, here she sat, more receptive to talking about him, and the man he'd been, than she had ever been previously, and downright – downright eager, she decided, if nervous – always, always nervous – to hear about Padmé.

The thing about the past was – Leia constantly felt, or had constantly felt, since Luke's revelation on Endor, that she was on the verge of hearing something _else_ that would shake her to the core; she, who had always been aggressive, and assertive, and intelligently confrontational, had developed a damaging habit of avoiding and evading personal truths – she had gotten better, in the past year, but her conflict with Han recently proved she still had work to do.

And she was – committed, to doing that work.

"This is an excellent room," Ryoo announced, standing at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows and peering outside critically. "I can _see_ my children without having to stand outside and _listen_ to them."

Pooja giggled.

"Ryoo," she scolded.

"You only think they're so cute and sweet and innocent because you see them sporadically," Ryoo retorted, turning her head to look over her shoulder – she had decided to keep Maiah and Iver at Varykino, rather than sending them with a sitter, but they had been told to play outside for a while, or come and entertain themselves with video games.

Leia smiled a little, turning her head to watch. The twins were entertaining themselves by playing some sort of game that entailed them repeatedly crouching down and hopping over each other.

"This morning, they were having some sort of contest to see who could make the most annoying noise," Ryoo went on conversationally.

"Who won?" Luke asked, strolling in and sitting down next to Leia. He drew his legs up and crossed them, resting his wrists on his knees.

"Hmm," Ryoo said. "It's relative," she decided. "I felt Maiah was the champion, but Whyler was more bothered by Iver."

Luke grinned. He glanced out to watch them for a minute, and then turned his head, tilting his gaze sideways at Leia. He raised his eyebrows, and Leia rested her cheek on her palm, looking back at him placidly. She lifted one shoulder and nodded simply.

 _Are you comfortable with this?_ – Luke was earnest, constantly trying to clarify.

Leia nodded again, easing down her mental shields.

 _Yes_ – she cocked a brow silently, _would you mind steering the conversation away from Vader if it goes that way?_ -she ventured hesitantly.

She did dread the conversation devolving into another tension-ridden nightmare like dinner had the other night - she had wanted to talk more about Padmé, though of course she understood why things had gone south – she didn't want to provide any reason for Ruwee to get agitated, and Vader – rather, Vader, in relation to Padme, understandably seemed to do that.

 _Of course_ – Luke answered swiftly, and she felt him hesitate: _Anakin and Vader…?_

Leia brushed her index finger against her ear warily.

 _Anakin_ – she thought vaguely. She shrugged, uncertain. She was finding it – easier, to view them separately, surrounded by so many people who had never known to call him Vader, and within the context of Shmi Skywalker's diary, but she didn't agree with any notion that considered Anakin and Vader separate entities – so she shrugged again, implying she'd – play that by ear.

Luke turned his head as Sola came in, rummaging through an arm full of old, glitch looking holo-documents, and he rolled his shoulders back, stretching.

 _Is this rekindling those vivid nightmares you have?_ – Luke asked quietly.

Leia didn't answer – she only shrugged, visibly, and glanced over at him, the corner of her mouth turning down just a little; she didn't want to talk about her nightmares, not through their connection while physically surrounded by other people – and she didn't think she necessarily wanted to reveal that she kept having nightmares in which Vader kidnapped – or, _claimed_ or – took, did something, to an infant – _her_ infant-?

"Papa found these in his office," Sola said, half-distracted as she still thumbed through the obviously worn documents. "They aren't juicy bits of anything from the Old Republic, but they're Padmé's," she said. "I think one of them is actually a practice draft of a speech she did when she was Princess of Theed."

Sola looked up, and noticed Leia lifted her head, interested. She smiled wryly.

"Yes, I thought that would hook you," she said knowingly, handing the things over. "I think it's mostly her school notes, honestly. She and Papa worked together a lot, and he keeps everything," she let Leia take the documents into her lap. "He's still up there downloading the holographs Whyler restored onto a cube – they're all from random negatives, and they're poor quality, in some cases," she explained.

Sola went to stand next to Ryoo for a moment, watching the kids, and then turned, putting her hand to her forehead.

"Oh, and – Luke – blast, I'm sorry, we still can't find any of Anakin, or her _with_ Anakin," she sighed, her mouth tightening. "I suppose Vader had a certain interest in obliterating evidence of his previous face."

"It's all right," Luke said – when he'd heard Vader ransacked the Naberrie possessions, he settled into a feeling that his father had been looking for cherished memories like that, to keep and brood over, or possibly destroy. "I know what he looked like."

"Do you?" Ryoo asked, turning around with her head tilted in interest.

"I have a holo of him when he was nine or ten," Luke said. He grinned a little. "You also keep repeatedly telling me I resemble him so, I could just glance in a mirror."

Pooja laughed, slouching down in her armchair with amusement.

"His hair was less neatly combed," Sola noted bluntly. "Anakin's. He always looked like he had just been in a windstorm. Though I think he spent quite a bit of time ensuring he looked that way."

Luke snorted, and Leia pointed at him mildly.

"You think his hair is neatly combed?" she asked, deadpan.

Pooja laughed a little louder, and Luke glared at her. Leia smiled at him blithely, tilting her chin up, and Luke shook his head, glancing around at the other women.

"This is what she does," he said dryly. "She insists she has to make up for lost time by making fun of me."

"Absolutely," Sola agreed seriously. She gestured at Ryoo, and her daughter nodded, quite solemn.

"It's what older siblings do," Ryoo advised.

Luke sat forward, eyes wide, and put his hand to his chest.

" _I'm_ the oldest!" he retorted. "I told you that," he said, pointing at Pooja.

"I forgot," Pooja said flippantly. "I think I accidentally told them you were older – or I got you confused with Maiah and Iver – "

"I get it, I get it," Luke said, feigning a scowl. "She seems older."

"Well, you're in a tough spot, now," Sola said, folding her arms. "You see, older sisters tease; older brothers protect."

"That sounds like you, Luke," Leia murmured, turning to look at him pointedly.

He smiled smugly, satisfied, and sat back – while Jobal made her appearance, followed by a day servant with a tray of all kinds of snacks and beverages.

"Ryoo," she said. "There are drinks here for the children."

"They're so absorbed in their play out there, we won't call them in," Ryoo said hastily. "It will distract them from how well they're following my instruction to entertain themselves."

Jobal nodded, and set two colourfully decorated, child-capped cups aside, gesturing to a side table in the room for the tray to sit on.

"I've set them to making only a light lunch, since it's likely the men will come back with game for dinner," she said, "but," she added, lifting a container with a proud smile, "I've got a fresh batch of starfruit butter for these biscuit crisps."

Pooja nearly flew out of her seat.

"Gods – Luke, Leia, you have to try this stuff. It's to die for. I think Gran-Mama cold have defeated the Empire if she'd just given him a spoonful of her starfruit butter. It would have cured his bad attitude."

Luke laughed a little disbelievingly, and Leia sat forward a little, looking at the food with interest.

"Is it – orange?" she asked. "It's a very bright orange," she noted, fascinated with the colour - -she'd never had any sort of fruit butter, and never seen butter that – neon, either. "Pooja," she added, looking up at her a little wryly as her cousin handed her a saucer plate and a sample. "That sounds like something my mother would have said – baking sweets to cure tyranny."

"Ah, no, Padmé was much more open to armed resistance than she publicly let on," Sola said wryly, "and, she couldn't bake – at _all_."

Luke winced, and Pooja turned to look at her mother with a pointed glare of disbelief. Jobal cleared her throat, straightening up and passing Pooja a teapot so she could help distribute.

"Sola, I believe Leia was talking about Breha Organa," she said kindly, glancing at Leia for confirmation.

Leia flushed, feeling – hopelessly awkward. She hadn't even considered – and she had no intention of offending, or making some sort of veiled statement about who was a real mother, and who wasn't, and she looked from Jobal to Sola, starting to nod.

Sola sighed, and placed her hand over her face for a moment. She stepped forward and sat on the arm of the chair Pooja had been sitting in, lowering her hand to her lap and leaning forward to look at Leia.

"I did not mean to disparage Queen Breha," she said.

"It did not sound disparaging," Leia said levelly.

"Well, I suppose you're right – actually, I was disparaging my sister's baking skills," Sola amended. "But, what I mean is – I didn't mean to make it sound like I have a problem with you calling Breha your mother."

Leia hesitated.

"I'm not sure it sounded like _that_ , either," she said honestly. She paused, and looked over at Jobal. "I know there are some negative feelings about my fa – Bail," she said, the word strange on her tongue, "Bail's actions back then. If it's painful for me to mention Breha – " she stumbled vaguely over that, too; calling them by their given names seemed so wildly inappropriate and disrespectful, like she was erasing them already –

"Oh, no. Leia – nonsense," Jobal said hastily. "That's silly, we would never ask you to forget everything you've known your whole life – Sola, for Sith's sake."

Sola straightened up.

"Mami, I just told her that's not what I intended - !" She broke off, shaking her head. She turned back to Leia. "It's not painful, it's how I personalize it," she tried to explain. "If I think of you as Breha Organa's daughter, I think of you as _Princess_ Leia, and I want to – bow to you, or whatever the custom is," she waved her hand a little comically. "I have to remind myself you're my little sister's to keep myself from acting like an old fool and then – well," she held out her hands. "I'm falling short of eloquent, I'm afraid."

Leia arched her brows.

"That was a fairly eloquent statement about lack of eloquence," she said wryly.

"What she means is," Pooja said, speaking up matter-of-factly, "is that no one here is mortally offended that you had nice parents growing up," she said, "and that you think of them as your parents. I mean," she looked at her family members earnestly, "Anakin was…dead, for all intents and purposes, and Padmé was dead, and you weren't with us, so the next best thing is parents who loved you," she said.

She held out her hand flat to Luke.

"Both of you, we're not just talking to Leia," she said.

"No, but there are more toes to step on, there, with her," Luke said logically. He sat forward, elbows on his knees. "My aunt and uncle were good people. They were hardworking, they were _caring_ , they stepped up to give me a home and to keep me safe, but they weren't my parents, they never asked me to _call_ them my parents," he explained.

Sola was quiet for a moment.

"I want to point out that its possible Papa is mortally offended," she said, arching a brow in her matter-of-fact, straightforward way.

" _That_ is not your fault," Jobal said briskly, placing teacups on side tables all around for easy reach and nodding at Luke and Leia each. "Ruwee can direct his animosity at Bail, if that is his wish, but I've impressed upon him the idiocy of lashing out at either of you," she said.

She accepted tea from Pooja and sat down, inclining her head apologetically.

"Though I'm sorry to sic him on your father," she offered.

Leia lifted her shoulders and sighed.

"I had plenty of my own questions for Father a year or so ago," she murmured fairly. "They took excellent care of me, though," she said quietly. "I know I've reassured you before, but it's important to me that you know," she said, "that the Organas loved me unconditionally. All of," she stopped short of speaking for her planet's entire population, and finished: "Alderaan welcomed me."

Jobal nodded, taking a sip of her tea.

"There are millions of adopted children in this galaxy," she said, "and all it takes to navigate the complexities of that, with living blood relatives," she reflected, "is maturity, and a willingness to understand."

Leia exhaled silently, her shoulders relaxing a little – that summed it up, simply, but beautifully – and she could offer her own insight into it –

"That's…a peaceful way to put it," she said, taking a deep breath. "My Aunt Rouge is so jealous of what I'm doing here," Leia confessed, laughing a little hoarsely. "She's convinced she'll be replaced."

"Hardly," Sola quipped swiftly. "I'm much younger than Rouge Organa."

Pooja opened her mouth, and Sola shot her a look.

"Shut it, Little One," she growled.

Pooja closed her mouth smugly, and Ryoo laughed, stepping away from the window.

"Well, for us, it's merely gaining additional relatives, so why don't we all think of it that way?"

"It's easy to think of it that way for cousins," Pooja said hesitantly, looking at Leia. "We don't think you have to choose between Breha and Padmé – "

"Millions of children in this galaxy have two mothers, as well," Jobal noted, arching a brow. She turned to Leia and Luke pointedly, eyeing them each individually. "She's right, there's no need to choose or make definitions, or, or," she waved her hand, sighing, "I don't know, draw up contracts. Padmé wanted you, she gave you life, and you're here – that's that."

Luke nodded easily, and Leia broke off a piece of her biscuit to taste the butter, nodding thoughtfully – it was more of a relief than she'd expected, to hear someone verbalize that she didn't have to choose between the two competing, so to speak, mothers – one an intangible ghost of the past, the other a prematurely taken soul who was well known to Leia, and in her heart every day.

"I think even my husband can get over the things he cannot change, if he tries hard enough," Jobal added wryly. "He feels bad enough about hurting you, Leia, that he's apt to let it go as a favor."

"It's all right," Leia said softly, shaking her head.

She bit into the snack and tilted her head to look at her small plate, fascinated – Pooja arched her brows at her as if to imply – _see, I told you!_ – and Leia nodded; it _was_ fantastic –

"What do you think?" Ryoo asked, striding around the room to scoop up a bit for herself. "Delicious enough to convert Emperor Palpatine to the light?"

"You'd have to ask Luke," Leia responded, tilting her head at her brother. "Returning Sith Lords to the light is his department," she said dryly, and then nodded at Jobal. "This is very good," she complimented sincerely.

"It's a family recipe," her grandmother said. "I'll send it along to Coruscant with you – unless you've inherited Padmé's baking skills?"

"She has," Luke asserted loudly.

Leia kicked him, glaring.

"The culinary arts are not my strong suit," she retorted, diplomatic as ever, "but _Han_ can handle it," she said. "Although he doesn't like the word baking. He claims it's _cooking_ when a man does it."

"Oh, he and Whyler must be having a great time together, then," Ryoo said, walking back across the room with a teacup in her hand. She snorted. "Whyler says things like that all the time."

She suddenly took a few sharp steps to the left, opened the glass door, and stepped out onto the patio.

"Maiah! _Get out of the fountain_!"

Her annoyed shouting drew laughs from the company, and Pooja sat down, leaning forward eagerly on her knees.

"Well, can we open the trunk?" she asked. "It's sitting there so temptingly – I haven't been in it in ages," she said, looking up at Luke and Leia. "It's got clothes, mostly, but some trinkets, some jewelry," she listed, and then she frowned good-naturedly at Luke. "Hmm, distinctly female stuff," she apologized.

Luke shrugged happily.

"I want to hear all about her," he said. "Seeing her things is more than I thought I'd get to do – it still means something to me," he said.

He put his hand to his hip, and then frowned.

"Uh, this is actually – my lightsaber, that I built, but the first one I had was my father's and, you know," he said, shrugging. "Possessions mean something. They tell a lot about a person. What was important to them."

He tilted his head, and looked at Sola.

"What was her favorite colour?" he asked curiously.

"Blue," Jobal answered.

Leia finished off the snack she'd been given, and set it aside, shuffling through the holopad in her lap. She handed one to Luke.

"This is her stylus calligraphy," she said, and then flicked her eyes over to Sola, who nodded in confirmation. Luke took the holodocument, looking at the shimmery, faded print that had been etched on the pages so many years ago.

He ran his hands over it, and Leia held some documents to her chest, leaning forward to look at the beautifully carved chest.

"Hydenock?" she asked softly.

"This was mine," Jobal said. "I threw as much of her stuff into it as I could when I realized what was happening with the Clones," she explained. "My mother gave me that chest when I married Ruwee, see," she said. "R.T. – Ryoo Thule, her initials."

Leia nodded, and Ryoo came back in, Maiah and Iver at her heels.

"Go wash your hands," she ordered, rolling her eyes. "Yes, yes, then a snack _– wash them good."_

The twins wove through the sunroom towards a 'fresher down the hall, and Ryoo sat down, collapsing on a sofa next to her mother.

"It was peaceful while it lasted," she said dramatically, and nodded at Pooja. "I'm ready to look in the trunk," she said. "It'll calm Maiah down and Iver will get bored and go play his handheld," she coaxed.

Pooja looked at Luke and Leia, and they both nodded, Luke still half-absorbed in the scripted, printed proof that his mother had existed – actively, and presently in the world. Sola gestured for her mother to say seated and knelt down to jostle the claps of the trunk and creak it open, using the sleeve of her blouse to brush away excess dust.

She leaned over, squinting, checking for moths and cobwebs – but no, the trunk was insulated well, and had been tucked away in a nice, cool space for all of these years.

"Undisturbed, mostly," Sola said quietly, reaching in to remove the first thing she found in the trunk.

Sitting back on her heels, she draped a faded black cloak over her lap and furrowed her brow.

"Except for Pooja breaking into the attic and going through this when she was young," Sola murmured, "no one's been in it in ages – "

"Because none of us had a death wish," Ryoo said, glaring at her sister. "Pooja was the one who wanted to tempt fate. By fate I mean _Sheev_."

Pooja rolled her eyes, and then pointed at the black cloak, reaching down to run her fingers over the hood.

"Gran-Mama," she said, interested. "This isn't even Aunt Mé-Mé's," she said thoughtfully. "I always shoved it aside because I thought it was a blanket."

"No," Sola muttered, looking up at her mother for a moment, and then over at Luke. "This is Ani's."

Luke looked up from his holo-documents, absorbed in the cloak Sola held up for him, and he tilted his head – it was a simple cloak, not heavy and woolen, but sleek, like one might where at a formal event – and not necessarily black, either, more like an inky blue that seemed black.

He felt Leia shift coldly away from it next to him. He leaned forward to take it anyway.

"It must have been with her things when I gathered them," Jobal murmured. "It's yours if you'd like it, Luke," she said.

Luke drew the cloak into his lap, and its edges covered Leia's feet. She looked down at them, mesmerized, and reached out to touch the hem hesitantly – what would it feel like; death, destruction? Would it connect her to the Force and slingshot her through those golden threads of peace and temptation –

She felt a chill, and she got up, setting aside her plate and clearing her throat.

 _Leia - ?_ Luke asked worriedly.

She brushed him off; she was okay, she just didn't want to think about dark cloaks and Anakin Skywalker and how he'd broken Padmé's heart and made choices that had destroyed the galaxy, and choices that still haunted her and made things difficult for her today.

She moved on to the floor where Sola sat, closer to the trunk, running away from Anakin, seeking the woman he'd wronged instead. She knelt next to her aunt, and Pooja sat forward, bending over the open hood of the trunk.

"Oh, yes," she breathed. "Most of this is her jewelry from when she was queen," she said, picking up a gemstone necklace that shimmered with pale green glitter. She held it up to Leia's cheek lightly. "This would look good on you," she murmured.

"You can rummage around," Sola said, sitting back.

She straightened, and then rose to her feet, folding her arms.

"Ryoo, I'm going to make sure those two aren't – "

"Good idea," Ryoo said vaguely, sitting forward to watch Leia as her mother went to check on the twins.

Leia hesitantly reached in the trunk, and gathered a mass of sunny yellow material in her hands, drawn to the colour immediately. Yellow wasn't a particularly popular colour on Alderaan; she'd almost never worn it – and yet it caught her eye sharply, and she lifted it – a dress – from the trunk, holding it up by the bodice.

There was a stunning purple, blue, and pink embroidery design on it, and the whole dress was a dark-but-pale, burned sort of yellow, old-fashioned, but filmy, and ethereal. It reminded Leia sharply of the sort of dresses she'd seen fairies wearing in Alderaanian art and children's stories.

"I can't believe that's held up so well," Jobal sighed, sitting up and putting a hand to her chest. "Oh – well, the skirt needs a bit of mending, but oh," she sighed. "That was one of Padmé's favorite dresses. I couldn't let them take it," she said. "I made an effort _specifically_ to save that."

Leia nodded.

"This is beautiful," she said quietly – she was, all at once, more choked up than she'd expected to be.

She knelt here on this floor, with a trunk full of Padmé's few, precious things, holding tangible proof of her existence in her lap, and she felt, for once – finally – actually connected to a history that until now, had only been a story, and at most times, an unwelcome one. She felt how earnestly, and honestly, these people had loved Padmé – and Anakin too, she supposed, judging by how willing Jobal had been to save his cloak, as well.

She kept running her hands over the dress, and she heard everyone fall silent.

"You're – you're welcome to that gown, Leia," Jobal ventured. "You're a bit – you're smaller than Padmé was, but I can hem it and take it in for you," she said softly.

Leia looked up, her lips pressed together. She was suddenly unsure if she could go through the rest of the trunk – not because she didn't want to, but because she knew how painful it must be for them to remember Padmé, and for them to sit here with her, and with Luke, and think, over and over, no matter what they said, about how much they'd missed out on.

Before she could say anything, Sola returned with Iver and Maiah, and Maiah scampered across the room and gingerly climbed directly into Leia's lap, daintily navigating the dress and sliding her arm around Leia's shoulders.

Ryoo sat forward.

"I have told you a thousand times Maiah _Ramira_ Vex - !" she began.

Leia held up a hand, silencing Ryoo gently and placing her hand on Maiah's head.

"It's okay," she said, securing her arm around Maiah's middle and letting her stay on her lap – though she did move the dress out of the way, so it would wrinkle even more.

Maiah pulled it over her lap and started stroking it, her eyes wide.

"Pretty," she cooed happily.

"It is pretty," Leia agreed.

Iver hopped around the room and eventually settled by Pooja, leaning on her knee.

"We wanted to, uh," he said, catching his breath after running around. He pointed various places, rapidly. "See the treasure!" he finished, landing his finger on the trunk.

"Treasure," Maiah repeated.

Leia nodded, watching the little girl run her tiny fingers over the embroidered detail on the dress. She looked up, and met Jobal's eyes, smiling shakily.

"I couldn't take – "

"Yes, you could," Jobal said. "I haven no qualms passing her things to you and Luke," she said. "Unless the two of you plan on leaving here and never seeing us again?"

Leia shook her head.

"No, I hardly think either of us have found this unpleasant," Luke agreed, unfolding his legs and sitting forward. He folded the cloak in his lap and held it towards his stomach. "Leia," he said, nodding at the trunk. "Can I see that doll?"

Leia turned a little, and saw he was pointing at a woven, straw-stuffed little thing resting on top of another folded gown, and she picked it up and handed it to him, giving it a curious look. It had buttons for eyes, a small, laughing red mouth –

"What is that?" Leia asked.

Luke held it, grinning.

"It's a – oh, they're stupid festival prizes, stuff you win a street vendors?" he said. "They're worth less than a credit on Tatooine, but you, um – traditionally, you win them on a first date," he said. "As far as Tatooine has traditions," he snorted.

Leia looked at it, thinking about what that must have been like – thinking that this meant there was a point in time, on Tatooine, when Darth Vader had been nothing more than a young man who emptied his pockets at a street side vendor's booth and won his girl a prize.

Maiah shifted in her lap and laid her head on Leia's shoulder, watching all the adults quietly.

Leia looked around, and looked up – and Ruwee Naberrie caught her eye, coming into the room slowly, two holo-cubes in his hand. He cleared his throat gruffly, well aware that he brought considerable tension, and he came to stand next to Jobal's chair.

"What I've been able to get, so far," he said gruffly, without preamble. "Is some footage of Padmé's – coronation, in Theed, a little bit of her speech," he said. "And, um," he cleared his throat, "footage of her at Sola's wedding."

He hesitated, and looked over at Luke.

"There is one photo that I think Anakin is in. Well," he amended, tilting his head with a frown. "It's an image of Ryoo showing Padmé her hair, and you can hear Pooja laughing with Ani in the background."

Luke and Leia were silent, looking at him, and Luke turned to look at her as if to ask – _are you ready to see her?_ Leia rested her hand on top of Maiah's head again, placing her chin on her knuckles lightly. Maiah shifted and looked up at her, apparently delighted with the affection, and Leia smiled faintly – she nodded, even if she was uncertain.

Ruwee came in to sit down, and cleared his throat again.

"If you'll…give me a moment," he said gruffly, his voice hoarse. "I haven't looked at images of my daughter in a very…long time."

Luke bowed his head in silent respect, and Leia nodded, turning her eyes away for a moment. She looked down at the dress in her lap, running her hands over it again, and she tilted her head, and smiled at Maiah, thinking that they had eyes in common, as Leia allegedly had eyes in common with Padmé – and she felt a little overwhelmed, and a little nervous.

Maiah popped her head up and kissed Leia on the jaw cutely, bursting into giggles, and then she twisted around and started chattering rapidly to Pooja. Leia took a deep breath and loosened her grip so Maiah had more mobility, and she looked over at Luke again.

He smiled at her encouragingly, and Ruwee lifted his head, steeling himself. He reached handed the holo cubes to Jobal and crouched down to turn them on, and Leia waited to see the face of the woman who had loved Darth Vader.

* * *

 _You ought to meditate, if it's getting bad again._

Luke's encouragement had been lingering in the back of her mind in the days since her nightmare. She found herself somewhat surprised by how tempting the idea was, and by the fact that she had already come to the conclusion that it might do her some good before Luke mentioned it. She felt better about sitting down to do it, now that she had hashed some things out with Han; she didn't want to get into a habit of thrusting herself at the Force when she was struggling with relationship issues. It would only serve to alienate Han's constantly fluctuation opinion of the Force and – as Luke had said such a while ago, Han _had_ to be amenable to the Force in case – in case they had children.

That topic weighing heavy on her mind, and fresh in her uncertain heart, was contributing to enough internal conflict that she did seek the benefits of meditation, though Leia would not necessarily define her current mental state as _bad_. She did not feel as jagged and chaotic as she had in the turbulent aftermath directly following the collapse of the Empire, and she certainly wasn't as violently opposed to the undeniable truths of her parentage and her past as she had been then.

She simply felt – apprehensive; uncertain, perhaps. In a way, the Reconstruction weeks and months after Endor had outwardly reflected how war torn, bloodied, and unstable she was on the inside; she'd been constructing a post-war emotional stability for herself as much as she'd been working day and night to solidify power for the New Republic and bind the galaxy together with peace and justice – and somewhere in all of that, though her equilibrium was constantly upended, challenged, and re-worked, she defined herself, and paralleled the rehabilitation of democracy with her personal fight to reorient herself within the context of what the war, and all she'd been through during it, had done to her.

Leia found herself now in a _similar_ sort of parallel – the New Republic was established; young, undeniably young, endeavoring both to hang on to a euphoric sense of victory and renaissance and to practice caution, and wisdom, and avoid the mistakes that had rotted the Old Republic from the core.

She herself felt like she had a firm, commanding handle on herself and the way she viewed her life as a whole – both when it came to the things she'd chosen for herself, such as the Rebellion, and her place in it, and the things she had no control over – her bloodline, her Father's lack of honesty with her concerning it. She was left now with the residue of all that _grit_ , and she had all those scars to admire, or lament, in the mirror – with the nasty, grueling, twist of war over, and the exhausting, unstable, wild chaos of Reconstruction behind her, there was now only a forward horizon with endless possibilities, and the strange thing was, Leia often found it more terrifying than the bog of numb, dissociative _bad_ she'd called her normal for so long.

There was plenty on her mind that would benefit from some cautious immersion in otherworldly comfort; Leia's logical realization that she ought to sit down and untangle some golden threads, like she had in the Jedi Temple last year, was tempered by a wariness that here and now might not be the best place to do it – but the Naberries provided her with so many complex perspectives regarding her natural father, and the vibrant presence of family, and discussion of the future of her family, begged for some sort of enlightenment, or perhaps mere peaceful reflection – and so, late in the afternoon, Leia took it upon herself to find silence under the Hydenock tree at Padmé's grave, and bow her head.

Luke had taught her the basics of opening her mind to her innate sensitivity and power, though since their joint theatrics with the Force in the dilapidated temple, she had only used minor techniques to ease her stress after particularly demanding days at work, or hard conversations surrounding the past.

She was amenable to meditation, but she also wasn't sure she had a clear idea of what she was looking for – previously, the experience had helped her unravel how knotted up she was inside about the trajectory of her life, and whether or not her father had predetermined it and thrust her into it like an animal for sacrificial slaughter – she had no concerns about that any longer. She knew he had always loved her as his own, and there were things beyond both of their control.

Part of her wondered if she should just consult the Force on the topic of children – but it seemed silly to whisper into a void, an intangible entity, the question – _should I have a baby?_ – particularly when Han was right; she needed to decide this for herself, and something about waiting for the Force to help her felt like turning herself into an oracle ready to respond to prophecy and prophecy alone.

She thought prophecies were dangerous, wildly so, she always had. Whether she believed in preternatural foresight was immaterial, every story she heard about prophecy ended in tragedy the moment a living being tried to conform to it, or control it – and on some level, that may be why she shied from her power; she did not want to see things she couldn't un-see, and she did not want a life shackled by service to rigid destiny.

Leia leaned forward and ran the flat of her palm along the artistic lettering of Padmé's name, dipping her index finger into the carving. She thought about her earliest memories, the wrenching despair she associated with this woman – or perhaps with being separated from her – and then she sat back, and covered her face with her hands for a moment – took a deep breath, and lowered her hands to her chest, pressing her fingers into her heart.

She closed her eyes, reached out to the world around her with a tendril of herself – until she felt that subtle hum that always seemed so present in Luke's apartment, and that had been so heady and mesmerizing in the old Jedi Temple.

The lush gardens of Varykino shimmered around her, and then coalesced into a more vibrant, hidden world, alive with the living Force, and Leia held one hand up, her palm towards the sky, feeling for a moment as if she could curl her fingers around the very air she breathed.

She thought of Luke gently telling her to relax, and ask for help – perhaps, then, if she didn't know specifically what she needed, what might steady her right now, she ought to just fall silent, and feel the atmosphere around her – and perhaps it would tell her what had been in Padmé's heart and soul, or what she saw in Anakin Skywalker, or why Leia herself had so little faith in her abilities to protect a child from the darkness in the galaxy.

She turned her focus carefully inside herself, amplifying her awareness of her body, tentatively seeking insight into her physical well-being – _is it even possible for me to have…? Am I okay?_ The answer she felt from the energy field around her was maddening – _you are as you were intended to be._

Leia opened her eyes and narrowed them – she heard Luke lecturing her about the Force speaking in mysterious ways, and wondered caustically if the Jedi merely had no clue what it was saying, and claimed it was a riddle to soothe their egos.

Her lashes fluttered, and she closed her eyes again, taking a deep breath – and a different demand burst to the forefront of her mind, and she thought _– how is it possible for one man to choke the galaxy in his fist and also be a boy my cousins adored?_

She felt cold, and pulled her knees in a little, resting her hands on them and squeezing. She took a deep breath and very suddenly, with firm resolution that established itself in a slow, warning prickle that crept up her spine to the back of her neck, she knew she was not alone.

Leia opened her eyes – she felt her lashes flick up against her brows, physically make the movements of opening, but when her vision was clear, she was unsure if she had actually opened them, or if she was seeing through her mind's eye. The world looked the same – lush and alive – there was just a new presence in it; she found her gaze centered on a pale indigo image, a shadow of a human man that was not quite corporeal, but certainly not a ghostly mist.

Leia held her breath, seeing silently – the specter was a young man, sitting before her with his legs crossed like hers. His hair was long, unkempt and wavy, fringed with spark-like blurs that defined the outline of the wraith, bringing it into sharp relief to ensure she knew that this was an apparition, not a hallucination. His face bore a scar that slashed from his brow down across his eye, and he smiled, youthfully, with a mouth that was probably used to expressing ostentatious emotion – and Leia stared at him, at _it,_ her mind in a hush.

She sharpened her focus, and for a moment, his image wavered, and she saw an older visage, his face scarred and pale, struggling to smile, struggling to make his eyes shine with light, bald and harrowed – and then he was young again, and framing his head, just barely visible, vaguely, like a threatening pastel shadow was – not a halo –

 _Helmet_ – she mouthed the words.

The apparition spoke – or rather, she heard a word, and was unsure if his lips physically moved, or if she merely understood the strong manipulation of the Force attuned world around her.

"Leia."

The word was hesitant – certain of who she was, but uncertain of everything else, and when she heard it, when her name, in an unknown voice, settled on her ears, she flinched unexpectedly – she heard it echoing through the heavy, rasping mouthpiece of Vader's mask, and yet she heard it in a different way, too, kind, and somehow – familiar.

She was struck with the choking realization that she'd heard this young man's voice before she was born, and that realization came not from memory, but with a nudge of knowledge from the Force, and she swallowed hard, and said –

" _You_."

It was accusatory and awed, angry and matter-of-fact – she had no doubt that this was Anakin Skywalker, and she felt tense with confusion, indignation, rabid curiosity – so many emotions flooded through her and she struggled to contain them – she ought to be shaking, screaming, running away from him, that was her natural reaction to Vader – but she was struck with the calm conviction of the Force – _this is not Darth Vader._

Her lips parted and she fought for words. For lack of anything more eloquent to say, she softly demanded –

"What do you want?"

He shimmered – he seemed to waver, painfully, in the air, as if maintaining himself was a painful struggle; she saw him in his youth, and saw him shimmer into the grotesque image, old and tired, that must have existed under the mask, and vaguely, around his head, she saw the shadow of that black helmet linger – linger and fade like he was fighting it.

He said nothing, and she was emboldened by his silence.

"What right do you have to appear to me like this?" she asked, her voice hoarsening. "This is my meditation. You are violating me."

He bowed his head, and lifted it.

"It would be impossible for me to be here if you had not allowed for it," he said heavily. "It is…difficult for me to maintain a presence here," he said, casting his eyes over her shoulder towards the house, rising in the distance. "I do not belong."

Leia leaned forward, her expression harsh – she studied him, and his eyes twitched with a tortured rhythm, and the world around her hummed at her as if it were stressed – she sensed the Force was not as receptive to Anakin Skywalker as it had been in his youth –

"You think I want to speak with you?" she asked quietly, struggling to keep her voice steady – her eyes stung, and her tone was dangerous. "I _hate_ you."

His response was quiet, and bore no resentment, only heavy acceptance –

"I know."

"You _don't_ know," Leia lashed out fiercely. "Do _not_ tell me you know. Don't say that to me. _Do not_ say those words to me."

 _Don't poison them;_ she thought violently. _I love those words._

"I understand," he amended, resting his wrists on his knees, his back hunched, shoulders burdened – and Leia noticed that heaviness on him, and reveled in it _– feel pain_ , she thought, directing her thoughts at him – her mind seemed to vibrate – _hurt!_

The image of Anakin Skywalker seemed to shrink, and he lifted his head, looking directly at her.

"You must not direct the Force like that, Leia," he said quietly. "You are better than that. You know it."

She recoiled, her face draining of colour – to be reprimanded by the ghost of one of the most terrible Sith Lords – she curled her lip, baring her teeth in a snarl –

"How dare you," she began. "How _dare_ – "

"I would know better than anyone," he interrupted in that same quiet, simple tone and Leia felt sapped of strength, and frightened of herself.

She looked at him angrily, her face white, her shoulders shaking, and she made a motion with her hand, a curling of her fingers, like she would strangle him if she could.

" _What_ do you know?" she asked in a soft hiss.

"I know that I hurt you," he said.

She licked her lips, her voice trembling –

"I?" she quoted. "You conflate yourself with him, then? You are Vader?" she asked, aggressive, digging her claws in, excavating answers and twisting them, bleeding them dry. "My brother asks me to believe in a dichotomy."

"Your brother is a better man than I ever was," the wraith answered humbly. He looked over her shoulder again, as if divining an answer from the horizon, and his blue image shuddered brokenly, like a bad holo connection, half of his face suddenly shrouded in a ghostly bruise-coloured helmet – and Leia's heart beat a painful rhythm against her ribs.

She leaned back, and turned her head away, thinking of the glassy, black depth of his eyes on the Death Star – and Anakin Skywalker said –

"I am as much Vader as I am Anakin Skywalker."

Leia clenched her teeth and closed her eyes, tears slipping faintly down her cheeks. She looked back at him, raw, and scared, and – somehow, sad, desperately sad over the tragedy of his life –

"Why?" she asked – and asked so many questions in one desperate word; _why did you fall, why did you do the things you did to me, to Han, to Luke – to the world, to the woman you loved?_ _Why do I have to live with it? Why don't you leave me alone; why will I always bear the scars you gave me –_

"I made a choice."

The answer he gave her was the same one she had heard, rasped and brokenly whispered, at het her in the Jedi Temple, when it was Vader who had flickered before her and given her a choice – _what would you do for Alderaan, if you could save it?_

" _Why_?" she asked again, unsatisfied. "What brought you to it?"

Anakin Skywalker seemed to fight with the answer, uncertain himself, battling sins he had not yet paid for, and he looked at her shoulder, at the grave next to him, and then up at her, like a child being punished, ashamed of –

"Weakness," he said hoarsely. "I demanded that the universe answer to my needs, to my personal desires, and then I fell victim to the poison of power when I lost everything despite my attempt to dominate fate."

Leia licked her lips, biting down hard on the inside of her cheek. She did not move to wipe her face, only blinked, and let more tears burn out of her eyes. She shook her head, words failing her, her hands trembling on her knees.

"Rather than trusting the guidance of the Force, I sought to administer it. I perverted the natural sensitivity of it and commanded it to serve me - I became enslaved to the shallowest essence of a precious and ethereal thing."

Transfixed, she still said nothing. She swallowed hard, pressing her fingertips into her knees tightly, thinking of Luke in a hushed, tentative whisper – she was unsure if she needed him here; was this cathartic, or was it a trick, to lure her into the black arts, tempt her into darkness? – she wanted to be good, she wanted no part of the Jedi religion, she only wanted some sense of justice –

"You hurt me," Leia said, her voice cracking.

He nodded.

"You hurt Han, you hurt Luke," she accused achingly. She reached out and placed her palm on Padmé's grave. "You hurt _her_. You hurt her family – you have – you are so," Leia paused, her eyes wide with helpless rage: " _unforgivable_."

He nodded, and Leia's face flushed, pink and red with sudden suspicion, and a tense resentment.

"Are you here to ask for my forgiveness?" she hissed. "For _absolution_?"

Anakin Skywalker spread his hands out wide, palms up, flat and unthreatening, and his image faded and melted into the old man, scarred and mutilated – and he said, in a heavy, broken, rasping voice –

"How can I?"

Luke's voice burst through her head, a memory from years ago – _he wanted me to tell you that I was right, Leia; he was good, in there somewhere – he had good in him._

He continued in that old voice, a death rattle in his throat –

"I would not put that burden on your shoulders, Leia," he said heavily. "To demand forgiveness from one I have so wronged," he shook his head, moving it like it took all the effort in the world, "would be to wound you more deeply than I already have."

Leia lifted her eyes up to the sky. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped an arm around them, taking a shaky breath – she felt so much lighter, suddenly, so unbound and liberated – ah, so _it doesn't make me dark and evil if I refuse to exculpate him –_

"I want you…to have peace I never had."

She lowered her head and gazed at him.

"And you?" she asked hoarsely. "Are you at peace?"

The old man faded back into the young man, and he looked at her bitterly, and tiredly, through his beaten eyes, his shoulders falling.

"No," he answered.

Leia's lips moved soundlessly for a moment, and then, very simply, and honestly, she said –

"Good."

He bowed his head, nodding, accepting the indictment - and when he turned to look at Padmé's grave, Leia asked, through gritted teeth –

"Are you with her?"

"No," he said softly, devastation thick in his voice. "It is unlikely I will ever achieve that level of atonement."

He turned, his image shifting, kneeling at the grave, hands flat on it, seeming to press tight and physically against the stone, and also seeming to pass through it, translucent and spiritual.

"I stand accused before the Force," he said, speaking down, to the flowers and the stone, and Leia looked away, listening, but unable to bear laying eyes on him for very long – "I am judged eternally for my betrayal of the light," he went on. "I confront my sins. I am accosted by the souls of my victims," he turned his head slightly, "by Alderaan's fallen," he said, "by the beings who were casualties of the brutality of my weakness."

He bent forward, his head lowered to the lettering on the grave, forehead nearly touching the stone.

"The Force is a haven of good, and I will not be utterly at one with it until I have repaid my debt to the light."

He swept his hand across her name.

" _She_ is already there."

Leia watched him, kneeling and bowed low, and her chest felt tight with the constant knowledge that nothing would ever change what he had done, how badly he had ruined so much of her, and so much of the galaxy – she felt peace overwhelm her not because she wanted to forgive him, but because she did find a sense of justice in his words – he deserved to pay for his transgressions; there was no such thing as carte blanche redemption.

She did reach up to wipe her face, speaking softly –

"You have been nothing more than a demon to me," she said huskily. "You brutalized me in life and haunted me in death."

He sat back on his heels, a fluid movement, like wind in the trees, and he turned his head to hear her.

"You tortured me," she said, her voice fading into a raw whisper. "You let me be raped."

She did not wait for a response; she said –

"In all of that, through all of those years – did you ever know who I was to you?"

He raised his head, and very slowly, he shook his head – denying it, and she didn't know, and assumed she would never decide, if that made her feel better, or worse. Better, she supposed, because she couldn't fathom the idea of a father knowingly abusing his child, but worse because she had been worthless to him, a throwaway victim, and his ignorance of her existence didn't really make up for that.

"I never loved another living thing after I lost Padmé," he said tiredly.

"Yet Luke was able to save you," Leia remarked – half inquiry, half confident statement.

"The love one feels for a child," he said quietly, "transcends description."

He seemed to fade, seemed harder to see.

"Would you believe that I started down the terrible path I took to save me wife, and my child?"

Leia shrugged. She shook her head.

"I have no interest in that justification," she said honestly. "From what I've been told of Padmé, she would have taken death over loss of goodness and integrity."

"And so she did," Anakin Skywalker lamented, his face stricken with a shamed grimace.

"Do not tell me, or yourself, that your actions were romantic," Leia said stonily.

He inclined his head in contrition.

"You are in incredible woman, my daughter."

Leia closed her eyes.

"You have no right to call me that," she said shortly. "You have no right to me."

"You and Luke are both the saviors of a legacy I did my best to tarnish."

Leia leaned forward, her nose almost level with his.

"You had nothing to do with me," she asserted. "You did not influence me, you inflicted damage on me – and I overcame that," she said, and then she stumbled, her voice shaky again. "I am…overcoming…that," she amended.

He was so hard to see now, and she blinked her eyes rapidly, taking a few breaths – he seemed to fade, and she felt relieved – she wanted him to go. She didn't feel terror or pain, not like she thought she would, but this interaction exhausted her – and yet she thought – _this is how the Force answered me, and I accept that; I accept it, I do not command it._

"Anakin," she said, speaking his name quietly, her eyes piercing into the spot where he was barely visible.

She started to say something else, but there was nothing to say – she was struck with the urge to order him to stay out of her nightmares, to keep his filthy gloved hands off of her children, but it sounded absurd, and she only looked at him, feeling like she was balancing on a narrow ledge.

He glimmered like white dust, and she heard – in her head, or in her ear, she wasn't sure – him say – _My fall, Leia…it was never my mother's fault._ She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she gasped, insecurities bubbling for a moment, and then fading, and she opened her eyes wide, crashing into a loud reality, left for a moment disoriented, and unsure if any of it was real –

There was a hand on her shoulder - that was real – and she jerked away – outside of the soft protective web of the Force, another person felt like a threat; her mind screamed – in that world he was Anakin, but here he's Vader – and she got up, turning sharply, her eyes wide.

She found herself face to face with Ruwee Naberrie, and he clasped his hands, wringing his fingers tightly.

"Leia," he began cautiously. "I hadn't meant to startle you," he trailed off. "I'm sorry, but your – your nose is bleeding."

Leia's and darted up to her nose and when she examined her fingers, she found he was right, and she cupped her hand over her face. Ruwee tilted his head, worry creasing his forehead, and reached out to touch her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "Come along, my dear," he said gently. He instinctively held his wrist to her nose to help her with the blood, and she turned her head away politely, not wanting to bleed on him.

"I'm fine," she said softly.

"You're white as a ghost," Ruwee noted.

"It happens sometimes," Leia muttered. She swallowed, and made a nauseated face at the coppery taste in her throat, looking sideways at Ruwee. "Is Han back?" she asked.

"No," he murmured. "No, they're still out – I was coming out to," he gestured, "visit her." He looked at the grave, and then pulled Leia very gently towards the path. "You need to come in and let us look at this."

Leia nodded, and a few steps up the path, Luke came barreling down, his expression consternated, reaching out for her hand as he skidded to a stop.

" _What_ ," he gasped, wincing a little, "was just going on?"

He always kept a vague tendril of feeling on her when she meditated, often checking on her just in case, but he'd lost her for a while, and then he'd felt her in deep concentration with another presence –

"I was meditating," Leia said softly.

Luke tilted her chin up to look at her nose, and pinched the bridge of it gently. He caught her eye.

"You saw Anakin," he breathed.

Leia closed her eyes, tacit agreement.

Ruwee glanced at them, and glanced back at the trees.

"Ah, yes," he murmured. "He hangs out back there," he said mildly – as if he had stopped by for dinner, as if it were normal.

Luke's expression was sharp.

"You can see Anakin Skywalker?"

Ruwee shook his head very carefully.

"No," he answered quietly, "but even an average human can sense when a troubled soul is not at rest."

His words were spiritual, prophetic – like he had always expected the ghost of his former son-in-law to plague Varykino. Luke stared at him, unblinking, for a moment, and then he turned back to Leia, and let her straighten her head – the nosebleed was nothing to worry about, already stopping, decidedly mild – he was much more concerned with his sister's experience with the father they shared – with her state of mind, in the aftermath.

* * *

Luke fully expected Han to have some sort of meltdown when he returned, and mentally preparing himself for that made the event a breeze to manage when it occurred – though to his credit, Han did not react as badly as he had previously, but that likely had everything to do with the fact that this time around, he had not been ambushed with a bleeding, limping Leia – and Han was in a brilliantly good mood when the hunting part returned; he and Bail were cheerfully verbally abusing each other as they removed dirty boots and camouflaged coats.

While Ryoo listened to Indy's account of the hunt with exaggerated fascination, and Maiah and Iver bounced around both Whyler and Darred, Luke waited placidly near the door with Ruwee, anticipating the moment when Han would notice Leia wasn't around.

Smirking, and running a hand through his hair to brush out some twigs and dirt, Han broke down his rifle and leaned it against the side of the house, reaching down to his side to enable the safety lock on his holster as he stepped up to Luke.

"Hey, kid," he said, grinning, "you shoulda come. Where's Leia?" he asked.

Luke shared a look with Ruwee, and they both glanced over Han's shoulder at Bail, who was holding up a handful of birds by their clawed feet and relating a story with a look of delighted, smug shock on his face.

"She's asleep," Ruwee said. He tilted his wrist and glanced at his chronometer. "She went up for a nap about an hour and a half ago."

Han blinked, taken aback. He considered Ruwee for a moment, debating whether or not he wanted to inform the man of how weird that sort of behavior was for her, but instead, he turned his head to Luke and narrowed his eyes pointedly.

"She went up for a _nap_?" he quoted, managing to make a _nap_ sound like the most untrustworthy thing he had ever heard of.

Ruwee nodded, and Luke folded his arms, tilting his head inside.

"Yeah, she did. I want to talk to you," he said.

Han looked at Ruwee, and Ruwee stepped back, peering around at Bail.

"I ought to see how much game there is so Jobal and Sola can prepare what to cook and what to dry and salt," he murmured, and looked back at Han. "Don't worry, Han," he said firmly. "Leia is alright."

Han gave him a dubious look, and then followed Luke into the house, winding through the large back entrance foyer towards one of the sunrooms. Luke checked to make sure it wasn't occupied – he was pretty sure Jobal and Sola were in the kitchens, but he wasn't sure – and then strolled over to one of the sofas, sitting down on the edge of it near Padmé's trunk.

Han marched in after him, and did not sit down; he stood facing him. Luke sat up straight, but before he could speak –

"A _nap_?" Han blurted, repeating it with that same suspicion. "Is that some code you gave Ruwee?" he asked. "Leia doesn't nap," he railed. "She falls asleep at her desk sometimes but she doesn't take naps on purpose," he asserted, familiar with Leia's tendency to overwork herself.

"It's not a code, and he's right, Leia's fine," Luke said honestly. "She _did_ go take a nap. She was tired. She meditated after we all talked about Padmé."

Han looked alarmed.

"It wasn't like last year," Luke said easily. "Her nose bled a little, but she had tea with us before she went to bed. Trust me, Han."

Han looked sour, but he folded his arms and shrugged.

"I do trust you," he muttered.

Luke laughed good-naturedly.

"Could you say that again with less reluctance?" he asked.

Han frowned.

"Us?" he quoted.

"Ruwee and I," Luke clarified, and Han's expression darkened.

"Did he say somethin' to her again?" he demanded.

Luke shook his head.

"I think he startled her when she was meditating, and that's not always a great way to come back to the present," Luke answered thoughtfully. "Leia wasn't upset with him, though. He didn't know that's what she was doing. "

"What _was_ she doing?" Han asked, his jaw tightening with worry. "How'd things go with," he gestured down at the trunk. "This thing? Was it bad?"

Luke shrugged.

"No. It was sad to talk about, but we learned a lot about Padmé and I never felt like Leia was particularly distressed – but, and I'm going out on a limb here," Luke said dryly, in a tone that implied he knew damn well he was right: "I think Leia's head could have used some clearing. You guys seemed better last night but this whole 'meet the family' thing was obviously not the only thing on her mind."

Han twitched his shoulders uncomfortably.

"Yeah," he said finally. "Well. It's the same stuff as usual, and then some," he muttered.

Luke was quiet for a moment, and then he sat back.

"She said it was okay if I told you, because she figured you'd be worried," he ventured carefully.

"Tell me what?" Han asked sharply.

"She…had a confrontation with Anakin Skywalker."

Han stiffened, and turned his head sharply to the side, and made an instinctive, smooth movement towards his hip, his fingers just barely brushing the safety latch on his holster before he realized how absurd the reaction was, and let his hand fall lamely to his side, hitting against his thigh.

Luke looked at Han skeptically, noting his hand motion – and refusing to let it go unremarked upon.

"Han, what were you going to do? Duel a ghost?" he asked dryly.

Han blinked stubbornly – and in an effort to keep his pride, fully embraced how ridiculous the notion was –

"Yes," he retorted aggressively. "For Leia? Yes."

Luke lifted his eyes up high, and shook his head.

"You two are…just," he muttered, rolling his eyes. He sighed. "Well, take it easy; he didn't attack her."

Han grit his teeth, folding his arms again. He unfolded them, and then held one hand out, shaking his head roughly.

"You got to explain this one to me, kid," he said a little harshly. "What's it mean, a _confrontation_?" he asked sarcastically.

Luke nodded, raising his hands and resting them under his chin. He blinked pointedly at Han, until Han took the hint and sat down across from him, glaring at him expectantly.

"It was an apparition," he said slowly. "He appeared to her."

"So," Han said coldly, "I could shoot him."

"This sort of – Force specters aren't solid," Luke said tensely. "You couldn't – it's something you wouldn't even see, without Force sensitivity," he said. "I've encountered the – imprints of my Jedi masters, and I've glimpsed my father on rare occasion since his death. It's like a vision. It was unable to hurt her."

Han narrowed his eyes angrily.

"Physically," Luke corrected hastily. "Physically hurt her – I understand that emotional trauma is different."

"And how was that for her?" Han asked sarcastically. He shook his head, not waiting for Luke to go on. "You're tellin' me that even though he's dead now, he can still harass her? Vader can just show up and mess with Leia's head – "

"It isn't like that," Luke broke in firmly. "He didn't appear to her as Vader."

"It's the same damn thing," Han said angrily. "You can run your mouth all you want about the dark and the light and all that bantha _shit_ but he's still – "

"I don't argue that they're not the same person," Luke insisted. "I know Anakin is responsible for Vader's actions, but the Dark Side has an aspect of perversion to it – Leia specifically referred to it as a conversation with Anakin Skywalker," Luke said pointedly.

Han gave him a wary look, and Luke nodded seriously, his expression firm.

"The whole time she was telling me about it – granted, she didn't tell me much - she didn't call him Vader a single time."

Luke let that settle for a minute, and then sighed.

"So in that respect, I think you should take her lead. She always had such an awful time separating it, you know?" Luke reflected. "If she can now, maybe _that_ will actually help. It's another way she can choose to define herself."

Han was quiet, watching Luke with an unreadable, tight look. Luke leaned back, relaxing his shoulders.

"She's been hearing a lot about how he was before he turned to the dark," Luke said logically, shrugging. "I know it was difficult for her to come here and take this step, because meeting the Naberries probably feels like deepening ties to Vader, and Leia really stabilized last year when she had a lot of questions answered and she could establish a truce with the things we can't change. But this is just more depth in fleshing out the complexities."

He looked down at his hands and fidgeted, holding up his prosthetic and ticking the fingers down a few times – holding up his other, and making the same motion, so Han could see the minuscule, barest different in how each hand worked; one was just a hare slower, and more stiff in its maneuvers.

"It's very complex," he said, almost to himself.

Han sat back and sighed harshly, turning his head away. He stared out of the room for a moment, silently swearing at himself for going off to hunt in the first place – but then easing up, curtailing his self-abuse, because Leia had asked him to go, and Leia could take care of herself, and he knew that, and if she'd decided she needed to do this –

"But can he just show up when he wants to?" Han asked, turning back to Luke in agitation. "Leia can do what she wants with the Force, but I don't want him haunting her," he said grimly.

He'd spent yesterday afternoon begging Leia not to let Vader influence a major decision for them, and if the ghost of that man was going to stand at her shoulder and whisper in her ear from now on –

"It's complicated," Luke said. "No, he can't. It takes effort. Maintaining an imprinted presence after death is a privilege granted to those who lived harmoniously with the Force, and even then, it's difficult, because the realm of the living rejects invasion by the dead."

He hesitated.

"I don't think Leia _asked_ to speak with Anakin," he went on cautiously, "but she said he told her he wouldn't be able to confront her without some receptivity from her, on some level – and I think, subconsciously, she must have sustained him for long enough to get what she wanted."

Han found it hard to fathom the idea of Leia giving any of herself to Vader, even if he was appearing as Anakin Skywalker, and even if he had offered her insight. He hadn't been there, though, and he hadn't heard her side, so he said nothing; he just considered what Luke said.

He looked down at his hands, then lifted one and ran it over his jaw hard, shaking his head.

"You mean it?" he asked. "She was okay?"

"She was," Luke promised firmly.

"Did she ask for me?"

"She asked Ruwee when you'd be back, but she wasn't falling apart."

Han nodded. He tried to force himself to relax, and let it go. Luke respected his silence for a moment, and then tilted his head.

"How was hunting?" he asked. "How'd Bail do?"

Han blinked at him.

"Huh? Oh," he grunted. He snorted derisively. "How'd Bail do," he repeated, sneering. "I think he hustled us. Old Viceroy insisted he'd never fired a rifle before, but picked up the gist like he'd been born with one in his hands."

Luke blinked incredulously, eyes widening.

"Really? What? How so?"

Han laughed skeptically.

"He shot the most damn birds!" he retorted. "Dropped 'em like it was nothin'!" Han shook his head wryly. "We're gonna have to be careful. I think he liked it too much. He's gonna be all bloodthirsty now, like a kath hound – "

"You wouldn't happen to be talking about me?"

Han broke off and turned, shrugging.

"You and your fake pacifist love of killing," he said, deadpan.

Bail rolled his eyes, but also looked extremely proud. He grinned at Han, and looked over at Luke, folding his arms.

"Ruwee mentioned Leia was upstairs napping?" he inquired. He arched a brow. "That sounds like a lie," he snorted. "What is she actually doing? Something a father would be scandalized by?"

Han sat up straight, pointing at his chest.

"What could she be doing that's scandalizing to _you_ without me around?" he asked charmingly.

Bail scowled at him. Han stood up, smirking.

"Talk to him," he said, pointing at Luke. "'M goin' upstairs."

"To do what?" Bail asked, brow furrowing.

" _Scandalize_ Leia," Han retorted.

Luke rolled his eyes.

"Han, she said she wanted to be woken up for dinner, so why don't you just wait, and let her sleep - ?"

"I'm not gonna wake her up if she's asleep. I'm goin' to check on her," Han said, giving Luke a warning look – he was fine with letting Leia sleep and trusting Luke's word unless Leia told him otherwise, but he also figured there was a fair chance Leia was wide awake upstairs, and if she was, he wanted to hear she was okay from _her_.

Bail looked quizzical, and Han pointed at Luke again firmly, assuming Luke would relay the same information to the Viceroy. Bail tilted his head, and then turned to fix a patient, expectant look on the kid, and Han left the sunroom for the stairs, following them until he reached the broad landing, and then the tucked away room that hid stairs up to his and Leia's quarters.

The antechamber door was open, and he was careful to walk lightly and keep quiet as he went in. The bedroom door was cracked, as well, so Leia must be in a fairly comfortable state, if she really had gone to nap and yet left doors open so she could be walked in on –

Han poked his head into the bedroom and saw her curled up on his side of the bed under a stitched blanket, the bed still neatly made underneath her. She looked at ease, just as fine as Luke claimed she was, and Han refused to disturb her, so he just stood for a moment, watching her sleep.

He left before there was any chance that she'd sense his vigil and wakeup, returning downstairs to help skin the birds, and leave her to sleep until dinner, as Luke had said.

* * *

Late in the night, long after dinner and desert and drinks, and long after she'd gone to bed for good, Leia woke up cold and a little anxious, her skin crawling with chills. She turned her head to the left and found Han sound asleep next to her, sprawled on his stomach with one of his hands under her pillow.

She sat up gingerly and pushed her hair back, running her hand over her legs. She felt alert, wide-awake – and she knew there was little chance of her going back to sleep right away, so instead of tossing and turning and risking waking Han up, she crept out of bed.

He shifted and turned his face flat into the mattress, but didn't wake, and she went out into the antechamber and sat in the corner of the sofa, leaning her back against the armrest. She yawned and looked down at her legs, crossing them at the ankle –

It hadn't been a nightmare that woke her up – not really, not in the way she was used to wrenching, terrible nightmares. She felt a little shaken, but the dream had been so different than what she was used to –

It bothered her a little that such a pleasant evening was followed by a sleepless night; it seemed unfair that when she'd so exhausted herself with the Force today, she was still cursed with insomnia, but she bore it alright.

Dinner, and everything following, had been laid back and amusing; Indy regaled them all with tales of the hunt, the food was delicious – it had been a purely nice time, and Leia cherished it, because she'd worried that once again she would cause there to be tension or awkwardness – and yet that had been absent, and even Han hadn't hovered around her too much, though she didn't think she'd have minded.

Leia tilted her head back, reflecting cautiously on the vague remnants of the dream that were still in her head – so dissimilar to what she'd experienced lately; tonight there was no blurry sequence of events that amalgamated her fear of a poisoned bloodline with her captivity on the Death Star – no, tonight, she was faced with a simpler kind of fear:

In the dream, she'd stood in a bland room, maybe a home, maybe merely a room, and she stood watching while one little, blue-eyed child appealed to her, holding out tiny hands, grasping for her – she didn't know if it was a girl, or a boy, the dream wasn't that clear, but she could hear it's childish voice pleading with her _– Mama, please!_ – the plea was constant, though, and demanding – and Leia was unsure if she was somehow failing the little vision, or if it was a manifestation of her subconscious, begging her not to rob herself of this.

She tried to help, in the dream, but she seemed unable, and the child went on, begging – _Mama, please_!

Leia pulled at her bottom lip lightly, chewing on her nail. She thought of the wraithlike Anakin Skywalker, his final offering to her – _My fall, Leia…it was never my mother's fault_ – she thought it might have been meant to comfort her, the Force finding a way to ease her troubles and her insecurities, but somehow, it amplified a different element to her concerns – the fear that whispered that Shmi Skywalker was good, and wasn't at fault, and yet, and yet –

It was terrifying to think that if she did decide she wanted this, and if she did everything she could, and was as wonderful a mother as her own Mama had been – _it might not matter._

Leia's hand drifted down to her abdomen, and she ran her fingers over the implant imbedded under her skin – her safety net, her shield, one of the things that kept her sane, right now.

She didn't want to make this decision based on Vader alone – yet that really wasn't the only thing –

"Leia?"

Han called her name from the other room, and then he came around the door into the antechamber, rubbing his hand over his eye hazily. He blinked at her, eyes adjusting in the dark, and then cleared his throat, shuffling over. He misjudged his arc around the kaffe table, smacked his knee on it, and swore, grumbling to himself as he dodged it and came to stand near the couch, looking down on her.

Leia sat forward and drew up her knees a little, making room for him.

"Y'okay?" he mumbled.

She nodded, and leaned over, tilting her head and pressing a kiss to his knee where he'd hit it. She gestured for him to join her, and curled her toes, smiling placidly. She slid her hand into her hair and twisted her fingers in circles, watching him take a minute to wake up.

"Nightmare?" he asked. His brow furrowed intently. "I didn't hear you."

She shook her head.

"It wasn't a nightmare," she said. "I just had a – well, the dream was disturbing," she admitted.

Han reached over and drew her legs over his lap, shifting closer. He slouched down, tilting his head back against the back of the sofa, and started tracing patterns on her thigh. Leia sighed, and covered her mouth a moment.

"Do you want to know what's been in my nightmares lately?" she asked finally.

Han turned his head to look at her, blinking pointedly – _yes, Sweetheart; that's what I'm here for._ He nodded, and Leia took a deep breath.

"We have a baby," she said softly, "and Vader takes it."

Han lifted his head slightly, and she nodded, taking another shaky breath.

"Then I'm back in my cell," she went on, succinct, "but I can hear it crying."

"Kriff," Han swore quietly.

Leia nodded, as if to agree with his assessment. She held her hand over her stomach.

"I'm in pain the whole time," she murmured. "It's…pain, a lot of pain," she said vaguely. She shook her head, and bit her lip. "Tonight there was just a small toddler screaming for my help and I didn't know what to do. Or what it needed."

Han hugged her legs closer to him tightly, and shifted his head a little, silent. Leia looked at him for a long time, and then bowed her head, letting out her breath angrily.

"I'm sorry, Han," she apologized suddenly. "I feel like I'm failing you."

He sat forward, narrowing his eyes.

"Hey, c'mon, Leia, you're not failin' me," he said. "I told you. I'm not gonna leave you over this."

"Oh, you say that now," she said softly. "What if in a few years, it feels more and more like something you really want?"

"I mean that, permanently," Han retorted, stubbornly asserting himself. He turned towards her, and she shifted her knees up, still hanging them over his lap at an acute angle. She gasped and lifted her head, her shoulders curling in towards her protectively. Her eyes stung, and she pursed her lips.

"I feel so insecure," she whispered. "Han, I - when I was a little girl, when I was growing up, I assumed I would have children," she said. "It was inevitable, expected - a _given."_

He nodded - he remembered her saying that. He figured that made sense - she'd been an heiress, she'd been expected to make a political marriage, and thrones and fortunes needed more heirs.

"I didn't think much about it. I didn't dwell incessantly on the pros and cons," she went on, "and then everything happened," she said, voice cracking, "losing Alderaan, fighting the war on the front lines, torture," she compressed her lips, swallowing hard - mouthed the word - _'rape'_ \- and continued: "finding out Vader was my father - and it robbed me of so much."

Han nodded at her - he'd been right there with her, for so much of it; Vader, the war, robbing her of her agency, her youth, her naïveté, her confidence in her self and her own identity.

"I don't think I realized until recently that all of this obliterated that quiet assumption I had that I would have children," she admitted hoarsely. "I have all of these intersecting issues now, all of this - time to think," she looked guilty, sheepish, "and I suppose one should always think deeply, and intensively, about the prospect of being a mother, but it's as if now - without Alderaan, and the need to carry on the royal tradition, I have the luxury - or the curse - of fleshing it all out," she bit her lip, "and in addition to that, considerable trauma."

Han's gaze was fixed on her, alert and soothing in the low light, and she kept going, because she was trying to get it all out, to do as good a job as she could giving him everything he needed to know, particularly since she'd kept it all in for so long.

"It's my work. It's that I like what I do and I want to keep doing it and I'm afraid I'd be unfair to a child. I'm afraid of doing everything right and still unleashing a monster because maybe, the Skywalker dynasty is just doomed," her words were hushed, and rapid. "I'm afraid of how broken I'll feel if I can't – have a baby, and it's one more thing that I lost in the war, and my heart's broken again," she shook her head, bit her lip again, "and we come from such different backgrounds, I even…I worry that our beliefs on raising them would be so different that we'd lose each other – "

"Beliefs?" Han interrupted. "Leia, I don't have any beliefs about this," he said, his voice husky, but articulating the word like it was a farce.

Leia's face paled.

"Well, that's a problem, too," she said hoarsely.

Han squeezed her knee.

"No, damn – I," he stumbled, frowning at himself. "I mean I spent my whole life avoiding knocking someone up!" he pointed out. He seemed exasperated, and wary of her – suddenly nervous, and insecure. "I barely even had a mother to learn from."

Leia's eyes softened and she focused in on his anxiety.

"You may not have had an example, but you know what you needed, and what you wanted, and what could have been better for you. You must have your own ideas if you want your own children."

Han shrugged a little violently.

"I don't know anything about dance lessons or bed time or religion or any of that shit you're supposed to teach nice, respectable kids," he said bitterly, "but I'd be there. I'd love them, Leia."

He shook his head, looking up at her with determination.

"I don't think that'll happen to us, fightin' like that – we'd be good parents."

Leia was silent. She laid her head sideways, on the back of the sofa, and let her eyes drift down to his hands, and the protective, familiar way they rested on her thighs, and she felt a stirring down in her soul when he said that – _I'd love them, Leia – We'd be good parents –_ like the way her stomach did somersaults, in a nice way, when she watched him play with Maiah or Iver.

She thought – _of course you'd be a good father, Han_ \- she just felt so messed up sometimes, she wasn't sure she'd ever live up to the lowest standard of a good mother, much less the gold standard, which was what she considered Breha Organa.

Leia pressed her cheek against her palm, looking at him thoughtfully.

"Why do you want kids?" she asked.

He looked at her edgily, shifting. He sat forward, his chest pressing into her knees.

"What do you mean?" he muttered.

Leia lifted her shoulders, breathing in and out steadily.

"I want you…to tell me," she said quietly, " _why_ you want kids."

Han seemed nettled by that – he felt put on the spot, and – and attacked, almost. He wasn't _like_ her, he didn't make lists and categorize the positives and negatives and agonize over things – he just _felt_ , and he felt like he wanted to have kids with Leia.

He tightened his jaw, frowning warily.

"It's – I love you, Leia, it's what people do," he said.

"That's not good enough," Leia said mildly, challenging him.

"What the hell do you want me to say?" he asked, exasperated. He turned more fully towards her, shaking his head. "You want me to convince you? Sweetheart, don't do that to me. Don't put that kind of pressure on me – "

"No, no," she said softly, shaking her head. "No, I don't want you to – I want to know why _you_ want them. It's important to me. It's important that we don't just procreate because we can. If I can," she added wistfully.

Han looked at her for a long time, and then he sat forward, and she pulled her legs off of him to let him maneuver better. He ran his hands over his face, and then looked down at his hands, scrambling to find a way to put it into words. It wasn't about possession. It wasn't about pride or the survival of his surname.

"I guess I'm the opposite of you, huh?" He muttered, frowning to himself. "The life I had? It didn't give me a chance to ever think if I'd have kids - it was too dangerous. Things settled down, and I had a chance to think," he shrugged again, trailing off. "What do I know? Maybe I always wanted a kid."

He curled his fingers in, balling his hands into fist and unclenching his jaw. Leia was still watching him, and it felt like she was reading his soul, and he swallowed hard.

"'Cause I want…to be a better man," he said, struggling with words. "'Cause I fought the Empire for you, and for Luke, and I enlisted in the damn military and fought the Imperial Remnant, and I saw things get better, 'cause of you, and your cause, and what we did – and I want to take advantage of it. 'Cause we earned it," he said, half-mumbling, "and," he looked over at her, "'cause if we have good kids, and they turn into good people, they'll keep what we fought for from falling apart – 'cause it gives us just another reason to keep _fighting._ "

Han ran a hand over his jaw and swallowed hard.

"And 'cause I love you, Leia, a lot more than you can handle, and it's got to go somewhere, and I want," he paused, sliding is hand through his hair roughly and breathing out harshly, "I want to feel that way about more of you. Little versions of you," he muttered.

Han winced, and then leaned back, looking over at her with a resigned _sheepishness_ – he seemed to think himself ridiculous, and needy, and somehow lacking in strength for wanting something so traditional and so affectionate.

Leia leaned forward and draped her arms loosely over her knees.

"Han," she said faintly. She caught her breath, and swallowed hard. " _That_ was good enough," she whispered, stretching her hand forward, grasping at his wrist. She curled her fingers around it and pressed her thumb against his pulse. "You know what confuses me more than anything?" she asked, staring at her thumb on his skin.

"What, Sweetheart?" he asked, shifting his hand to grasp her fingers comfortingly.

"I do want to have a baby with you," she whispered. "There's something purely animal in wanting it," she murmured, "and yet I still, still get paralyzed by fear, and doubt, and I know that on a logical level, even if a very hormonal, emotional part of me wants that, it may not be a healthy decision for me, and I may not want to commit to it, because of all this," she flinched a little, "shit," she said hoarsely, "in my life - even if I think it's the sweetest thing. " she paused, and bit her lip, "and I do think you'd be a good father."

Han held her hand a little tighter, smiling gratefully at her. She took a deep breath, and tilted her head to the other side.

"It's a struggle in that...I may want it, and still decide I won't do it. Am I making sense?"

Han hesitated. He gave her an apologetic look.

"Not completely," he said honestly, his voice a little gruff. "S'not your fault though. I think it's 'cause I'm a man."

Leia took a swift breath, holding it - she smiled at him gratefully, tilting her head. That may be some of it - men simply never achieved an parental experience identical to a woman's, and that Han could grasp that, even a little - put her at ease. She bit her lip a moment, and then went on -

"I know you…don't want me to worry about genetics, but," she licked her lips nervously, "you're saying – you love me, and you want a baby because it would be a part of me. Part of us."

"Yeah," Han said warily – that sounded like what he was saying.

"At the end of the day, Vader is a part of me. I can't _not_ factor that in."

Han sighed heavily, and turned towards her. He put his hands on her knees, and leaned in close.

"I think," he said flatly, "we can argue nature versus nurture until we're dead," he paused, and moved forward, kissing her lips in a handful of short, soft kisses. "If it's _how_ we raise 'em, they'll be fine," he said confidently. "If it's all in the nature, then it's a goddamn fluke, Leia, and you – we – can't punish ourselves based on a fluke. I don't _want_ that bastard to be the reason you want this and don't have it."

He left it at that, because the other things were other issues - if Leia was worried she wasn't mentally set enough for it, they could work on that - she got better every day. If it turned out that she wasn't capable of having a baby - they would have to face that issue if it came up - but her connection to Vader could never be changed, and he dreaded it being the deciding factor.

Leia lifted her hands and slid her fingers into his hair, holding his head still and pressing her lips hard against his. She parted her knees and pulled him forward, leaning back and letting him climb forward on the couch and settle over her.

When she drew away a fraction to take a breath, she took one hand from his hair to rub at her eyes, casting her eyes upwards and blinking back tears.

"Well, I want to feel ready for this, Han," she said in a small voice, "and I don't feel ready for it."

He pressed kisses to the corner of her mouth, and her nose, and her brow, nodding.

"It doesn't have to _be_ now," he said – he'd already told her that, by the river, but he reassured her, still – he could wait, though he hoped it wasn't years and years and years from now, because he was older than her, and he wanted the energy and the prime of his life to do this and do it right, but he held those comments back to avoid putting pressure on her –

It was like they'd discussed yesterday; it had to be an ongoing conversation – he had to check in with her and she had to tell him where she was.

Leia slid her hands down his neck and over his shoulders, tilting her head back. He kissed her throat, pressed the slim, light chain of her necklace into her collarbone with his lips, kissing down to the pendant, and Leia moaned quietly.

Han mumbled something unintelligible against her shoulder, his hand sliding down her middle and loosening the tie on her robe. She felt a rush of overwhelming desire for him, here, now, and she kissed his jaw, and caught her teeth lightly, insistently on his ear, reaching between them to touch his hip, and pull him closer to her.

He shifted towards her obligingly and lifted his head, breathing in her hair for a moment, and then kissing her brow again, his eyes heady and intoxicating, and he arched a brow at her lazily, leaning in to kiss her lips again – " _Bed_?" – he mumbled at her half-heartedly, and she shook her head, and Han laughed huskily; _oh, no problem, Sweetheart, right here on the couch._

He reached behind her to grab the armrest for leverage, and she arched her hips for him in the right angle; Leia slid her hand into his hair and twisted, pulling gently, and he was inside her, moving with the right rhythm. She drowned, for a moment, in how incredible he felt, lost her voice in quiet, pitchy gasps and stuttering, hushed moans, scratching her nails lightly on his neck when he had her, had her in just the right spot – " _Han, oh Han, yes, like that, yes, yes, oh – yes"_ – and it wasn't until she was shaking and gritting her teeth, breathing hard and listening to him come, the husky rumble of his voice in her ear – " _Leia, holy fuck, Sweetheart" –_ that she realized it hadn't been _this_ good for an unfair amount of time, considering they were newlyweds.

She hadn't realized how much of a strain their underlying tensions had put on their intimacy, and when the movement of his hips slowed, and he kissed her jaw and started to shift back, her hands flew from his hair to his waist and she tightened her thighs, pressing her knees into his ribs, holding him close to her – he looked at her for a moment, and then he smirked, brightly, and she was relieved to consider the underlying tension – resolved.

* * *

 **Two important notes:** _Leia having a conversation with Vader is a theme/scene taken from the EU novel "The Truce at Bakura" - however, my scene has no dialogue similarities, nor does it end even remotely the same way - and per ROTJ's re-edited ending (the use of Hayden Christiensen, which I actually love), I have him appear to Leia as an amalgamation of his identities_

 _Another: My concept of Anakin's life after death is roughly based on Anne Rice's conceptualization of Lucifer's experience in Hell from her novel 'Memnoch the Devil.' I say 'roughly' because in that novel, Lucifer's whole gambit turns out to be a hoax, but I really enjoyed the hoax he created, and I use it for Anakin/Siths (i.e. - the notion that those who wish to be redeemed must constantly choose to confront those they have wronged before peace is granted)._

 _-feedback appreciated!_

 _-Alexandra_


	10. Nine

_a/n: and so begins the denouement._

* * *

 ** _Nine_**

* * *

It was an honest relief for Leia that Pooja often needed to step away from the family to respond to political communiques or incidents from her office; it made Leia feel less imposing and reclusive when every couple of days _she_ borrowed Ruwee's office – on Pooja's recommendation, and often in Pooja's company – to do the same. Though her first retreat into work when they'd first arrived may have been born of lingering wariness of the Naberries and accompanied by a desire to create space for herself and distract herself, there was no longer any element of hiding to her taking a few short hours to work.

She reminded both Han and Luke that she had taken leave, but she had not taken the same sort of radio silence, no contact leave she had secured for her honeymoon – and besides, disappearing into a completely invisible absence without explanation as to why would raise questions and be viewed as extremely strange, to say the least – though Tavska told her, in a lengthy rundown of what was going on, that the prevailing Media opinion was that Leia was hopelessly under the weather with morning sickness and vacationing on Naboo for the fresh air –

Leia rolled her eyes.

She couldn't for the life of her fathom why the Media apparatus of the New Republic was so eager for her to have a baby – all they'd do if she had one was demand to know why she was at work instead of at home with it. Or ask her why she wasn't bringing it to work. Or develop polls on why the name she'd chosen was terrible.

Leia leaned back in the comfortable leather chair Ruwee kept at his desk, dimming one window on the terminal and turning to look at her datapad – she examined notes Tavska had sent her regarding a meeting of the Alderaanian Council – Evaan Verlaine had provided a rough draft of a the reformed system of governance for the Alderaanian Diaspora, a project Bail had been spearheading with the Council.

Tyr Taskeen was absorbed in directing things for the Haven on Yavin Four, Rouge wanted to bestow a scholarship on one of her mentees to send her to a prestigious fashion academy on Hosnian Prime, which was financially no problem at all, but after the defeat of the Empire, with the help of accountants and investors, Leia had configured the Organa exchequers so that the vast majority of their wealth – which now included the possessions, properties, and credits of all deceased Alderaanians – was essentially 'inherited' by the survivors; funding appropriations had to go directly to Leia's financial team, and be signed off on by her.

She had worked it all out so that the personal wealth of her family was equally available to all survivors who needed help, and the Council helped her administer not only monetary assistance, but education in managing finances if it was needed; her net worth following the destruction of the planet was so unfathomably alarming that even if she provided charity for the Diaspora indefinitely, she and Han would never bat an eyelid about money – their personal salaries were nothing to sneeze at, in the first place.

Her duties in the New Republic often eclipsed her involvement with Alderaan, now that much of her work with the Diaspora was delegated to Bail, their beloved Viceroy, and Evaan Verlaine, whom Leia personally felt should be elected the representative leader of Alderaan once the Diaspora's place as a sort of – civilization without borders – was better delineated and understood within the galactic order.

Leia valued, respected, and wanted her position as Princess, but she had already established herself as the _last_ Princess; she was their ancestral leader, anointed by the old laws, but things had changed, and Leia was a part of so many different worlds.

There had been four more Ambassadors confirmed in the past few days, one from a former Imperial stronghold world – he was a human supremacist with some questionable views, and Leia grit her teeth at his election – but this was a slow process, and there were some worlds that had grudgingly come to the table of the New Republic, dragged there by the yoke of military defeat and lack of ability to do anything else, and integration of the fractured galaxy was a journey, not an automatic end.

The important thing was, the relative good guys were in charge – the Imperial Remnant was toothless and bitter, and the galaxy was drunk enough on peace and freedom that the average inhabitant was likely to remain satisfied and enthusiastic about the current order – for a while.

Living sentients always forgot, after long stretches of peace and liberty, things so often taken for granted, how terrible it was under tyranny, how terrible wars were at all, and Leia knew the bureaucracy and open-forum discussion that democracy required could grow tedious, could even begin to look weak and ineffective, but it was the best form of government, the only form that strove to ensure franchise was granted to all, rather than privileged to a few.

Leia scanned through a memo from Mon Mothma, a speaking request forwarded to her from Dansra Beezer, and a notification from Rouge that suggested they hold a traditional christening at the temple on Yavin when the Haven was complete and operational – Leia skimmed through the names her aunt had sent her, a neat little list of women in the Alderaanian diaspora who were expecting babies around the time the Haven might open.

She chewed on her lip thoughtfully – it might be a grand ceremony to hold, on that occasion; Leia remembered christenings from her youth in Aldera; she'd performed a hasty, informal version of one for an Alderaanian couple hiding on Dantooine a year after the Disaster. It was by chance that she and Evaan had found them while they were on an intelligence gathering mission; as far as Leia knew, that little boy had been the first Alderaanian born without a home world.

In fact – she wondered what had happened to him. She pulled up a blank message on her terminal and forwarded a note to Evaan asking her to seek information on them. They ought to be brought to the Haven and settled, and Leia wouldn't mind seeing the boy again – he would be, oh, four, five years old now? And they had named him Prestor, after her father –

Leia sighed, returning a message to her Aunt, and then forwarding the suggestion with a note to Tavska – her last few orders of business were new disputes submitted to the Reconciliation Corps, which were court-like systems she presided over to help foster better relationships between former rebels, former imperials, and the average galactic citizen.

She assigned lawyers and social therapists to each case, and read over a military report from Carlist Rieekan with a personal message at the end that asked her if she could please remind General Solo to check his damn messages once in a while.

Leia grinned – _Han's_ version of leave was to pretend his job did not exist in any way, shape, or fashion – period. She wouldn't be surprised if Warlord Zsinj rose from the dead and destroyed Corell City and Han didn't notice because he had his comms set on _no disturbance._

Making a mental note to tell Han that Carlist had threatened to deploy him to Kessell if he didn't check in at least once; Leia started a final scan of her work, notifying Tavska over a quick messaging system that she would resume her offline status shortly.

She sent Winter a last minute reminder to respect the integrity of her bedroom, narrowing her eyes and infusing the comm with a pointed glare for good measure.

She was so absorbed in ensuring each minor thing she had chosen to handle today was neatly attended to that she did not notice she was no longer alone in the office, until she heard the clearing of a throat, and looked up.

"Ruwee," she said, sitting back in the chair, her shoulders straightening. She compressed her lips, her expression apologetic. "I've monopolized your office relentlessly," she said, starting to stand. "I told Pooja I'd only be a minute longer – I'm sorry," she started to trail off as he held up his hands calmly, shaking his head.

"Not at all, no apology needed," he said mildly, coming forward. "Do you mind company?"

Leia sat back on the edge of the chair, and nodded. She hesitated for a moment, and then stood.

"Well, sit here," she offered. "I can't keep you from your chair in your own office."

He laughed a little.

"I'm actually not too fond of that chair, Leia," he said frankly. He reached behind him to gesture to his lower back. "It's old, and the lumbar support isn't good."

He chose to sit on one of the chairs that surrounded a sort of conference table in the middle of the room, leaning back in it thoughtfully.

"I poked my head in to see if it seemed like you were finishing up," he said.

"Yes, I was," Leia agreed. She paused, a little embarrassed. "I haven't been attempting to escape – "

Ruwee laughed, waving his hand again.

"Oh, no one thinks any such thing," he snorted. "We're used to working women in this family," he noted – "and I know you're busy; even those who don't follow politics have found themselves following your career."

Leia flushed, falling silent. She bit the inside of her lip, her eyes on him guardedly – Ruwee was the only Naberrie around whom she felt unsure of herself; she knew he was angry at her father, and she had not yet been able to determine if that anger translated into rejection of her.

Ruwee sighed and looked around, his eyes falling on a dark holograph cube on his desk – Leia had been looking at it earlier, when Pooja was still with her, letting it flicker while they discussed an upcoming review of Human Rights laws in the Republic – she had turned it off to save its energy, but she knew the image by heart; Padmé, about twenty years old, receiving an award from the Queen who had been elected after her.

She reached forward to lay her hand on it, and Ruwee lifted his eyes, smiling tiredly.

"I spent a lot of time with my daughter in this office," he remarked. "She was brilliant. I'm sure you've heard," he said, waving his hands around aimlessly as if to indicate her presence, and how she was talked about by the family. "I don't think it can be reiterated enough. _Brilliant_ ," he reflected, sighing. "She tested so well on aptitude tests that the pride went to my head."

Leia pulled her chair forward, crossing her ankles under the desk. She tilted her head, and listened intently.

"I was flattered when Sheev Palpatine took an interest in her," Ruwee said quietly. "He was well-respected, very powerful, then – of course, no one knew what he was," he said, shrugging a little bitterly at Leia.

She nodded.

"I remember the stories of his rise," she said neutrally. "The true stories," she added, arching a brow, "not the Imperial-taught dogma – my father had me educated in the politics of it." Leia paused, shaking her head. "He wanted me to learn not to concede simply because _I_ still felt safe. That's what people did. They refused to care until it was too late."

Ruwee nodded wordlessly.

"Did you know a woman named Sabé?" Leia asked suddenly.

He looked at her, his mouth tightening with interest. He nodded.

"Yes, she was one of Padmé's handmaidens," he said. "She was a wonderful woman. Very sharp. Why do you ask?"

Leia hesitated. She wasn't sure if the information would upset him. It had bothered her, somewhat, when she found out, so she felt like she should share it.

"She was one of my tutors," Leia revealed. "When I was very young. She's the one who taught me about Palpatine's political acumen. She told me about a teenage queen of Naboo's resistance to the Trade Federation, as well."

Ruwee blinked at her thoughtfully, his face unreadable. He took a breath.

"She told you about Padmé?" he asked.

"She told me about the _conflict,"_ Leia corrected. "It would have been too dangerous to speak her name, I assume."

"She knew who you were?" Ruwee pressed.

Leia rested her chin on her palm.

"No," she answered softly. She was quiet for a moment. "Only my father, Mon Mothma, Sheltay Retrac – and the two Jedi," she stumbled forward, hastily adding: "and Luke's aunt and uncle, but they knew only about Luke."

"A fairly large group, if one is keeping a secret," Ruwee said dully.

Leia fell uncomfortably silent, and after a moment, Ruwee tilted his head at her.

"What happened to Sabé?" he asked tiredly. "Most of Padmé's cohort joined the Rebellion. We never heard from any of them again."

Leia swallowed hard.

"She was executed for dissident speech, on Hosnian Prime," she said solemnly. "She was arrested while visiting a relative. I was fourteen. I knew the Empire was authoritarian, and I knew my father was in opposition to its policies but," Leia sighed, "her death was the first time I experienced it. You know – growing up on Alderaan, I had rights, I had privileges," she said, she tapped in her fingers against her cheek – "I had wealth, power, protection," she said quietly. "From an academic standpoint, I disagreed with the Empire – but it wasn't emotional until things like that started happening."

Ruwee watched her, listening, and then said –

"I don't know how it makes me feel, knowing that Bail sheltered Sabé on Alderaan and had her teach you," he said, his tone stiff, and uncertain. "On the one hand, I know Padmé held her in high esteem, but that he took a risk of having a known associate of my daughter's in your closest circle, and yet – "

Ruwee trailed off, and Leia compressed her lips again – the choices made back then weren't hers, and again, she felt she couldn't speak for her father, in defense of him or against him. She only knew that he had been a good father, regardless of anything else – had been; still was.

She parted her lips to say something, but Ruwee leaned forward, clearing his throat. He put a hand to his head, and looked over at her seriously.

"I had hoped to catch you alone," he began evenly. "It's been a couple of days. I know this is coming late, but I want to offer an apology for my – remarks at dinner, the other evening," he said.

Leia said nothing. She sat forward a little, showing that she was listening intently, and had interest in what he was saying.

"What I said was…unconscionable," he said sincerely, looking down at his hands for a moment. "It was vilifying, and out of line, and I do not – bear you any resentment, or dislike, Leia," he went on. He sighed, and looked back up, looking as if he would say something else, and then falling silent.

Leia swallowed hard and looked down at the desk, choosing her words carefully.

"Well," she said dryly. "That," she sighed shortly, "was not the first time I was blamed for Alderaan's fate, and I doubt it will be the last." She smiled tightly. "I'm sure that when my heritage is known, I will face accusations that I was complicit in it," she added.

Her voice cracked, and she ran her fingers over her mouth, pressing her lips against her teeth. She closed her eyes for a moment – the rush of emotion was unexpected, and she tempered it, rather than holding it back.

Ruwee put a hand to his chest.

"I don't think you are responsible for Alderaan," he said firmly – and she believed him; his tone was sincere. "My words were…a pathetically misguided attempt to attack Bail," he broke off, sighing in frustration at his faults. "I thought if I could point out that he'd been so cavalier with your life, and his – scheming with those Jedi," he shook his head. "Well, I tried to hurt him, and it landed on you."

"I have rather thick skin," Leia said quietly.

"That's no comfort," Ruwee said heavily. "That you've been forced to grow it is sorrowful, for me."

Leia smiled a little.

"Ruwee," she said, tilting her head. "I…your apology _is_ a relief," she told him honestly. "I – have to speak on my father's behalf. Alderaan – what happened is not his fault, either. "

Ruwee nodded, and Leia took a deep breath, her expression grim.

"It took me…a long time to come to terms with my part in the destruction of Alderaan." She lifted her shoulders. "I still feel guilty. Every day," she admitted. "I have nightmares in which I can't wash the blood off my hands," she shook her head, "but I know, I've had to fight, to _make_ myself logically understand, that if it wasn't Alderaan on that day, it would have been another planet – and Alderaan was marked for death as it were. The Empire was full of beasts," she said flatly, "beasts that got off on destruction."

Ruwee tilted his head at her intently.

"You are certainly right," he answered. "It's only that – if there is anything that I would have wished for Padmé's children, after all the tragedy she suffered, it would have been that your lives be peaceful," he explained. "I would have," he broke off. "I'm sorry you were placed in the position you were placed in," he said heavily.

Leia lowered her hand from her chin, pushing around the holocube near her. She smiled a little sadly – Ruwee reminded her of herself, of how she'd felt back on Endor, and in the wild, unsteady months after that fateful battle, when her connection to Vader had just been revealed and she questioned everything about her life and her upbringing; when she'd felt used, and then abandoned, by her father, raised up as a weapon of vengeance, rather than a beloved daughter –

She bit her lip lightly.

"I'm not," she said.

Ruwee's eyes rested on her curiously, with cautious willingness to listen.

"The surviving Jedi had plans for Luke, and likely for me as well," Leia said. "I've no doubt about that, and I can't speak for how Luke felt about his aunt and uncle, and the trajectory of his life, but I can tell you that I was raised to be the Queen of Alderaan. My father _delayed_ my run for the Senate – I wanted to put my name up when I was sixteen," she said. "I discovered his involvement with the Rebellion and he refused to allow me to associate with it – an order I deliberately disobeyed when I went to Coruscant."

"He did not endeavor very hard to keep you from it," Ruwee said warily.

Leia tilted her head back and forth.

"No," she agreed. "You understand that he could not," she assumed, holding her hand out. "You yourself said that Padmé could not be reasoned with, even as danger closed in all around her – my father believed in this fight," Leia said earnestly, "he believed in it, and he was alive to carry it on when your daughter died for it – and he _let_ me _choose_ it. That's the kind of position he put me in, Ruwee," she said softly, "an educated one - a position to choose. He accepted my choice even if he knew the terrible danger it put us all in."

Ruwee rubbed his jaw.

"You feel you were loved and protected?" he asked. "You can promise me that? You can say without reservations that you weren't used by these…people who were trying to correct their own mistakes?"

Leia looked away for a moment. She got up, and came to sit with him near the conference table, leaning against the back of a chair near him with her temple pressed lightly into her knuckles. She was quiet for a while, and then nodded, firm, and secure.

"Yes, I can," she said softly. "I had the same concerns as you. If this – miracle rescue hadn't happened; I don't know where I'd be now. I don't know how I'd think - but even without my father's reappearance, and his availability to answer questions, I think I would have come to that conclusion – because when I look back on my political fervor, and my actions as a teenager," Leia shook her head wryly, "I couldn't be reasoned with."

Ruwee smiled nostalgically.

"That sounds very familiar to me," he admitted.

Leia laughed hoarsely.

"I think I was naïve," she said softly. "I think…I was enjoying the thrill of espionage more than I should have. There was a period, maybe, where I was having fun, but I was very aware of the protection and privilege I had as the crown princess and," she shook her head, "all of that was obliterated when they targeted Alderaan. I sat in my cell…and had to decide if my convictions were what I thought they were, or if I had just paid the ultimate price for a political game I was playing."

Leia lifted her shoulders honestly, and compressed her lips.

"And…my convictions were still there."

Ruwee nodded.

"I was always going to be a revolutionary," she said quietly.

Ruwee nodded again, folding his arms across his chest. He sighed shortly.

"You were born to it," he remarked, his tone dry. "May I tell you, Leia, that…I felt I failed Padmé? I let my pride in her intelligence and her maturity and how wonderfully precocious she was guide me, and I let her be embroiled in politics and all of that without making sure she had a wholesome and unburdened childhood, as well. Padmé loved her work – she loved it, do not get me wrong…but as her father, I should have reigned her in, at times," he said.

Ruwee leaned forward and rubbed his jaw again, almost an agitated motion.

"The more dangerous the Clone Wars became, the more radical _Padmé_ became, and we – argued frequently. It was worse when she told us of her involvement with Anakin – I knew how seriously the Jedi took those codes, and I knew how…rash…Anakin could be."

Ruwee wrung his fingers, and looked at Leia solemnly.

"Jobal told me that…I've been angry with Padmé, for choosing martyrdom over us. I've been angry at myself for…not holding her back, and keeping her safe, and I see…all of my mistakes in how much you and Luke have born the weight of the galaxy because you, too, weren't – protected – I suppose all of that is true," he said introspectively. "I've been bitter. It's a damnable, unbearable thing, to lose a child – and I did not handle it as gracefully as my wife. It felt like a double blow to learn we had lost you and Luke, as well."

Leia threaded her fingers into her hair silently, nodding.

"I understand," she said softly.

"The two of you had nothing to do with what happened back then," Ruwee said firmly. "I hope I haven't made it seem like I want nothing to do with you, because that is very far from the truth. You're remarkable people in your own rights," he said, smiling sadly, "but beyond that, you're family, and Padmé, would have loathed my behavior."

Leia smiled.

"If I can speak on my father's behalf," she said carefully. "I don't have any standing to justify his reasoning or tell you what was in his mind, but I do think – and perhaps you can find some way to see – that he was doing his best to keep us safe, for Padmé's sake. It does seem – cruel that your family was kept out of it, but I don't think his intentions were entirely selfish."

"No," Ruwee agreed mildly. "Though I do think, in the end, the single thing that kept you and Luke hidden was the simple truth that no one was looking for you," he said, raising and lowering his shoulders. "The story was that Padmé died pregnant. _That_ story was what protected you – as evidenced by how Luke ended up undetected despite keeping Anakin's surname, and staying with Anakin's stepbrother."

Leia nodded.

"Do you think that story would have held up if your family had two new babies around the same time Padmé allegedly died pregnant?" she asked mildly.

Ruwee hesitated. He bowed his head to concede that might have raised suspicious about the validity of her pre-term death, and he sighed. Leia smiled a little, and sucked in her breath slowly, her shoulders relaxing.

"I – must apologize again," Ruwee murmured. "If I – contributed to your nightmares…it was unforgivable."

Leia flicked her hand casually.

"Not you," she said dull, "an ailment I've had since the Death Star," she said grimly.

Ruwee nodded.

"And your…nose, yesterday?" he asked.

Leia brushed her fingers over it lightly, crinkling her brow. She shook her head.

"It happens when I spend too much time with the Force," she said slowly. "It seems to," she amended. "Luke theorizes that it would stop if I let him train me a little more but," she sighed, and shook her head. "That is not my path."

"Speaking of," Ruwee said, looking at her intently. "I hope you know how much your brother cares about you."

Leia grinned, and inclined her head.

"I know," she assured him. "Luke is much more important to me than he thinks he is. He discredits himself. He's the most admirable person I've met – there were very few Alderaanians, even, who had the capacity for nonviolence that Luke practices – to lay down his lightsaber in the presence of Vader, and the Emperor?" Leia arched her brows, and shook her head. "I likely would have lopped the bastard's head off."

Ruwee laughed dryly.

"I take it that is why you don't intend to become a Jedi."

Leia snapped her fingers lightly, with a confirming nod.

"I like my emotions," she asserted, tilting her head back against her hand – she had been numb for a very long time.

She looked at his profile for a moment, and then she cleared her throat, lifting her head and setting her shoulders back seriously.

"I can't imagine what you've been through in losing Padmé," she said gently. "The stress of the Empire looming over you in the following years must have made it that much worse. Don't think I'm insensitive to how triggering it must have been to assume I am here for political reasons – "

"I was unfair to you on that front, as well – "

"No, not necessarily. It's my turn to offer an explanation – because you were not wrong, when you assumed I have the intention of being publicly candid about the connection to Vader, and Padmé," she said.

Ruwee nodded stiffly.

"I suspect so from the beginning," he said. "Pooja understood what I was saying relatively quickly – it's too dangerous a secret."

Leia nodded.

"I feel very strongly that there is a sinister element in hiding it," she remarked. "As if it…would keep me in a chokehold. I've never seen anything _good_ come from obfuscating the truth, and if I want to do good by this galaxy, they must be able to trust me."

Ruwee sighed. He rested his elbow on his knee, turning his face into his palm, considering her words. He looked down at the rug beneath them.

"Obviously, I don't have to ask if you if you've considered that the backlash could devastate your political career."

Leia's lips turned up wryly.

"I've considered it," she confirmed. "It's an ongoing consideration, in fact – but in the end, any way I imagine it, it's the best thing to do. The only way it doesn't become a problem is if no one finds out and – "

"Secrets are always found out," Ruwee finished gloomily.

"There are too many people alive now who know," Leia said. "It's not only that – I trust the people who know, but imagine now having to continue living with a huge secret like this," she said, thinking of his family. "Keeping it from the little ones until they're old enough not to tell, constantly watching your speech – policing how familiar we are with each other," she listed, shaking her head. "And, if you will suffer me to speak purely politically for a moment, I think it can be a powerful thing for lasting democratic stability if people were to know that evil is a choice, not a destiny – and I think I can be an example of that."

She smiled faintly.

"I'd like to be."

"You don't feel as if you have to atone for Vader's sins?"

She laughed hoarsely.

"You sound like my husband," she noted wryly. She shrugged. "Well, maybe," she admitted softly. "Atone is the wrong word. I won't do anything in honor of Vader," she said shortly. She paused, and looked at Ruwee intently. "There is plenty I would do in honor of Padmé," she said.

She paused again, and then held out one hand, palm up flat.

"And in honor of my mother – Breha – and all of Alderaan, and anyone who was hurt by the Empire, and Vader – because what better way is there to exact vengeance on an oppressive regime than to live freely, and without cataclysmic secrets?"

Ruwee smiled at her reflectively.

"She would be…so impressed with you," he said quietly.

Leia flushed, threading her fingers into her hair again. She shrugged with humility and looked down, feeling the compliment was not one Ruwee would have given lightly, and appreciating it with all of her being.

Her grandfather sighed, and clasped his hands.

"You're right in that it is a dark secret to keep," he said, "but it also seems a dark burden to ask my family to bear in the public eye – myself and Jobal, we are accustomed, and so is Sola, to an extent – we lived Padmé's public life with her. Pooja makes her own political choices – but Ryoo, and her little ones," he hesitated. "It's a lot to ask."

Leia sat forward, curling one foot under her. She straightened up.

"I am asking," she said slowly. "I never intended to give you a cursory notice of what I wanted to do, Ruwee," she promised. "I came to – know your family, and to ask for your blessing – your support," she explained. "I know," Leia implored sincerely, "how heavy all of this weighs on you."

He ran his hand over his face.

"Let me…think on it, Leia," he said, his face heavily lined, and weary. He paused, and sat up, bracing one hand on his knee and looking at her. "You aren't asking for permission, though, I notice," he said, "only a blessing."

Leia compressed her lips, and nodded.

Ruwee arched a brow.

"If I were to tell you I want this kept secret, would you reveal it anyway?"

Leia was quiet a long time.

"Do you want me to answer honestly?"

"Yes, my dear," Ruwee said wryly. "Given the conversation we've just had about secrets."

"I would," Leia declared firmly. "I cannot, in good faith, ask this galaxy to put its trust in me as a leader without putting my trust in them – to judge me by my actions, not my blood."

She cleared her throat bravely.

"I would warn you ahead of time, and do my best to respect your family's privacy…but this is not going to remain buried."

Ruwee held her gaze, and then gave her a slow, wry smile, almost knowing.

"I'd expect nothing less," he said. "Padmé would do the same. You didn't pander to me - I respect that."

Leia inclined her head, letting out a breath – she knew it was best to be truthful, but she'd been worried that answer would antagonize him, and this conversation with him had been so good –

She bit her lip for a moment, and then relaxed a little more, offering some personal wisdom –

"It – _helps_ me," she said in a small voice. "It helps _me_ deal with it," she clarified. "Accepting…my relation to Anakin, to Vader – it has never been easy. Living with it in a dark cage in the back of my mind was even harder."

Ruwee nodded.

"Has being here given you any peace?" he asked. "Has knowing us…helped?"

Leia sighed.

"It doesn't change what Vader did to me," she said. "Nothing ever will. Being here…cures me of hating where I came from," she paused, and looked at him warily, "and I think I harbored some resentment towards Padmé for ever loving him, because it felt impure – but I don't feel that anymore."

Ruwee smiled. He leaned over and touched Leia's forehead with his thumb, replacing that touch with a chaste, paternal kiss after a moment and leaning back. She smiled gratefully, and she nodded as if to reinforce the satisfaction this heart-to-heart brought – and he turned to face her a little more.

"I want to talk to my family about it," he said gruffly. "Their opinions matter, too."

Leia held out her hands as if to say _– by all means_. Communication was so vastly important – it was what she wanted, and it was what transparency thrived on.

"Perhaps – I'll take a moment to speak with Bail, as well," Ruwee said, "and we can continue this excursion without any more dramatics."

"There have actually been markedly less dramatics than I was expecting," Leia offered, deadpan. "However – I'll do what I can to stop screaming the house awake in the dead of night."

Ruwee looked alarmed.

"Leia, gods, I didn't mean to imply – "

She smiled a little satirically.

"I developed a dark sense of humor as a result of…my entire life thus far," she joked pointedly.

"Ah," Ruwee said dryly. "Now that you mention it – I suppose I should have realized that when you and Pooja went into laughing fits over Darth Vader's potential sex life."

Leia made a face, blushing.

"Yes – well, Han though I was having a stroke, apparently – that was actually, ah, not normal behavior for me," she stammered. "I'm really quite conservative."

"Hmmm," Ruwee muttered, vaguely unconvinced. "Well – I've not more – personal lamentations to bother you with, though Pooja mentioned you were working on a particular section of the Civil Rights declaration pursuant to refugee demands, and I'd - -be interest to hear what you're working on," he ventured. "I used to volunteer with the Refugee population here on Naboo – "

"I'd be happy to discuss it," Leia said warmly. "If it won't bore you."

"As I said, I spent hours with Padmé in this office – talking politics – "

Leia beamed at him, and got up, returning to the desk to fetch her datapad so she could pull up some of her rough drafts for the section – she was modeling it after an old, long-forgotten religious text she'd found that called displaced persons the 'protected angels of the world' –

She returned to the sofa to hand it to him, and Ruwee Naberrie pulled bifocals from his pocket, and slid them on his nose, and he felt a peace that he had been missing for a very long time – and it had everything to do with Padmé's daughter sitting next to him.

* * *

Luke found his maternal grandmother's focus on him to be endearing, and a little overwhelming in the most welcome of ways. He was humbled by her efforts in making him a couple of new tunics with her own hand, and he wasn't sure he had the vocabulary to accurately thank her.

"No, no, don't trip over yourself, dear, you're very welcome," Jobal said, waving her hand easily as she sat with Luke in the sunroom. She smiled. "I was worried you might take them the wrong way," she said frankly, laughing quietly.

"How so?" Luke asked, running his hands over the fine stitching – it was almost impossible to tell that these hadn't been made by a machine in a factory; the artistry of it was impeccable.

"Well, I expected you might think I was insulting your clothing," Jobal noted.

Luke snorted. He turned his head and peered at the frayed shoulder of his tunic, and then reached up to pull at the collar of it, smiling sheepishly.

"I didn't take it that way," he noted. He arched a brow. "Leia's Aunt Rouge will be thrilled to see I've come into something not quite as threadbare – she had me dressed for Leia's wedding," he revealed.

"Ah," Jobal said, amused. "She's quite an aristocratic lady. I suppose it's just what she was used to."

"Rouge is sweet at heart," Luke said. "She clings to her old mores. It helps her cope. I think it gives her better control over the world she lives in now," he explained. "It's just, ah, because of that she can be kind of…aggressive towards Han."

"Hmm," Jobal murmured thoughtfully. "She doesn't like him, still?"

"Actually I think she _does_ like him," Luke answered. "I think she likes him a lot more than she ever thought she would, but she has a problem with the idea of him, if that…makes sense? Han's never really done anything to hurt Rouge or disrespect Leia or anything, so she knows he's a good man, but his image doesn't align with what her idea of a gentleman always was. So she can get superficial and forget it doesn't really matter if his shirt is wrinkled."

Jobal nodded.

"I think Sola and Darred felt the same about Whyler," she said. She held out her hand. "Ruwee, too – well, I mean, you've got this tall, muscular gambler, covered in tattoos, his livelihood is that he runs card games and pod-races and risks money on them," she said, laughing slightly, "and Ryoo had a little boy to take care of, and she was bringing home this…seemingly careless gangster," Jobal smiled, shaking her head. "He's really a darling, though. He got out of gambling, as well. He said it was just something to make him rich while he was looking for the rest of his life. And, as it turns out, the rest of his life was Ryoo."

Luke nodded solemnly.

Jobal shifted, and sat forward, pointing to the bag she had given Luke with his new tunics in it.

"I've mended Anakin's old cloak and hemmed it – he was a bit taller than you, but not much – in case you'd like that as well. I wouldn't think you'd be very keen on wearing it, but just to _have_ ," she said pointedly, and gestured at the old trunk of Padmé's that still sat in the sunroom, but had been neatly pushed out of the way since their exploration of it.

Luke reached into the bag to run his hands over the black wool, nodding thoughtfully – he started to thank her, but Jobal was speaking again:

"I'd also like you to take some of the jewelry that's in her trunk," she said.

Luke's brow furrowed.

"Jewelry?" he asked, a little amused. "Wouldn't it be best to give it to Leia?"

Jobal inclined her head.

"Leia is welcome to take what she finds meaningful, and I think – I do hope – I've convinced her to take that yellow dress," she said, leaning forward earnestly, "but you shouldn't miss out on Padmé's things merely because you're a man," she said simply. "Valued possessions should be inherited, and there's a fair chance you may have children one day."

Luke tilted his head thoughtfully.

"You could pass it on to your daughter," Jobal suggested. "Or, pass it on to a son, to pass to the woman he loves, or to _his_ daughter – you could do anything with it, really, even hand it down to Leia's children, if you end up not having any."

" _If_ Leia has any," Luke added.

Jobal gave a small, knowing smile. She sat up straighter, leaning back and folding her arms comfortably.

"She will," she said.

Luke looked skeptical.

"How can you be sure?"

Jobal smiled mysteriously.

"I just know," she answered on instinct.

Luke tilted his head quizzically, and then leaned back, sighing easily.

"I hope you're right," he said. "I think Leia and Han would be good parents."

She looked at him intently, nodding her agreement.

"They'll find their way," she said thoughtfully – she reflected on her question about it, the one that had caused such an abrupt rift between Leia and Han, and she shrugged away her lingering guilt over probing; she shouldn't have, perhaps, but she hoped whatever bothered Leia about it was something she could talk about with her husband, and her family.

"What about you, Luke?" Jobal asked intently, her expression earnest. "Is there anyone in your life, romantically?"

She paused, listening to his taken aback silence, and then she smiled wryly, her eyes wrinkling at the corners.

"I must sound like a nosy mother – and you're a grown man, you must hate being mothered – "

"No," Luke interrupted quietly. "I don't hate it." He ground his teeth together lightly, and shook his head. "It's _nice_ to have this much family."

Jobal looked around the room, thinking of her living children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, and smiled in agreement - she valued them all so dearly; he didn't have to tell her twice what it was worth.

Luke hesitated, and then flushed, shifting in his seat.

"I've never been in a serious relationship, but I've taken every affair I've had seriously," he said slowly, wondering if that was a logical way to phrase it – he had never considered himself to have fallen in love in the kind of way that Leia clearly fell in love with Han, or beings fell in love every day, but he had enjoyed his flings and dalliances, and he'd never disregarded the feelings of the women involved in them – he'd picked out partners who were also at ease, for now, with being unattached.

"The public does not seem quite as interested in your affairs," Jobal noted.

Luke laughed.

"The Media learned pretty quickly that I'm boring on the big screens," he snorted. "They harass Leia partly because she is actual important news half the time, and partly because they might strain her enough to get a killer one-liner out of her."

Jobal grinned at that, but steered the conversation away from Leia effortlessly.

"You aren't seeing anyone?" she asked.

Luke hesitated again. He sighed, musing on his answer.

"Not in the conventional sense, no," he said.

"What is conventional for a Jedi?" Jobal asked.

"Clandestine matrimony, apparently," Luke quipped dryly, and she laughed good-naturedly, shrugging her shoulders in agreement. "Ahhh, no," Luke said, reflecting.

The last woman he'd seen for a length of time was Gaerial Captison, a politician he'd met at Leia's wedding – and she'd been lovely, and funny, and kind, but she was a career diplomat, focused and ambitious, and in the end she would need a partner who didn't disappear for weeks to sleep in caves and immerse himself in archaeological digs on remote planets in ancient cities. They had stopped seeing each other amicably, and it had never been formal, anyway; he saw her only when she was on Coruscant.

"There is someone you're interested in," Jobal guessed perceptively.

Luke smiled at her a little warily.

"There's a woman I admire very much," he said slowly. "She's – someone I met a little less than a year ago. She's a Force user," he explained. "We met on…less than friendly terms, but she's someone who was used and manipulated by the Empire, and I've come across her several times since and convinced her to let me help her find the light in the Force," he said.

Jobal leaned forward, resting her elbow on her knee, and her chin in her palm, listening with honest interest.

"She reminds me of the girls I knew on Tatooine," Luke said frankly. "The ones who grew up with nothing but dirt and sand and broken nails and learned how to fight just to make sure they got their share of water when the wells were full…the ones that used to scare me. She was dragged down the wrong path, but she was never wrong in the soul."

"She sounds fascinating," Jobal murmured.

"She is – she's very bitter, though, and she barely trusts me," Luke noted, arching his brows and smirking a little dryly. "She's someone I'm helping though, teaching?" he explained haltingly. "She's from this whole other world, a completely different Force background – I don't think it's ethical to express interest in her when we have a professional agreement."

"Is that what you have?" Jobal asked.

Luke shrugged.

"There's no paperwork," he said flatly. "She doesn't trust authority, but she very much trusts in the Force. I think it's all she had after the Empire fell, and she's done terrible things, but under duress, and with a sense of honor – I think I need her to further my own understanding of the complexities of the force – dark, light, and neutral," he reflected philosophically, "so I have to walk a certain line – she's remarkable, though – and beautiful."

Jobal nodded.

"I think that's noble," she said quietly. "You're right, if you've offered to help someone…there oughtn't be any pressure on that person to reciprocate the assistance in any way, no obligation," she said. "If she ever returns your romantic interest, though – perhaps don't hold back," Jobal winked, "some things are destiny."

"I believe that," Luke agreed.

"Does Leia know about her?" Jobal asked.

"Um," Luke said, suddenly sheepish. "Leia knows _of_ her," he said warily.

Jobal raised her brows, amused.

"Oh, she doesn't like her?" she asked. "That – oh, my, that sort of thing is the quintessential family squabble, isn't it – "

"Well, it's not that Leia doesn't like her," Luke said fairly. "Leia's never met her. Leia doesn't probe into what I do when I'm off on my Jedi quests – her terminology, not mine. It's only that the only time I've mentioned – this woman – to Leia was, er, the time she tried to kill me."

Jobal stared at him.

"In her defense, it was a very half-hearted attempt to kill me. And the second time she tried, I think she just wanted to duel."

Jobal still stared at him, and Luke smiled carefully.

"The year after the Battle of Endor was a time of very uncertain loyalties," he said diplomatically.

His grandmother arched her eyebrows, and then smiled, shaking her head.

"You and Leia lead such interesting lives," she said. "I can't say I'm at all shocked, considering your parents – you have a magnetic penchant for mayhem, positive and negative."

" _Is_ that inherited?" Luke asked, deadpan.

Jobal spread her arms out.

"Clearly," she remarked pointedly. "You know, Padmé once called me to wish me a happy birthday – this was during the Clone Wars, mind you – and when I heard rapid blaster fire in the background, she told me _not to worry about it_."

Jobal shook her head, sniffing.

"'Not to worry about it,'" she repeated. "I come to find out; she was in the crossfires of the Battle of Ryloth when she was supposed to be at a negotiation summit with some of the Jedi and a delegation of Separatists."

Luke widened his eyes, fascinated.

"And do you know what she told her father and I, when we raised her on the comm a week later worried sick?"

"What?" Luke asked eagerly.

Jobal gave him a look, and then affected a very diplomatic, lofty tone –

" _Peace talks broke down, Mami, there was nothing to be done – I had to negotiate with a blaster – these thugs, they make it so difficult_ ," Jobal shook her head again, and then sighed. "Anakin was with her. Laughing, in the background."

She fell quiet nostalgically, a little sadly, and rubbed her forehead, smiling gently at Luke.

"I wish you had known her like we did," she said softly.

Luke nodded, relaxing his shoulders warmly.

"So do I," he said – everything he'd heard was eye-opening, and interesting, and so comforting; it wiped away all the immediate resentment he'd felt when he thought his mother had merely given up on himself and Leia – there was so much opportunity to belong, here with the Naberries, and Luke was more than grateful to take his place in their family.

"What is it you hope to do in your life, Luke?" Jobal asked sagely. "Leia's life is so – well, to an extent, her professional life, is incredibly public; we hardly have to ask what she does for a living, or even what she's doing on a daily basis," she said. "It's been interesting getting to know her on a personal level, seeing the woman she is outside of her crown, and her responsibilities – but you're more elusive."

"Less interesting," Luke said blithely.

"No, quite the opposite; there's plenty of interest where there is mystery," Jobal said wryly. "You were an integral part of the Empire's fall – not only as a soldier, but as the most triumphant Jedi Knight the galaxy had seen in years – in a time we thought they were all dead."

"I'm not as visible because I don't _govern_ ," Luke said simply. "I fought in the name of justice, but I'm not a legislator – I'm a citizen, a chaperone of the Force," he said. He paused, and tilted his head. "That is what I hope to do, I suppose – to answer your question."

He leaned forward, hugging the tunics in his lap towards his stomach, his face lighting up.

"I've been consumed in research in the months since the end of the Reconstruction period," he said. "I seek out old Jedi strongholds and legends of the Force and I learn what I can. I want to build a new Jedi Order, but it's a painstaking, delicate process – and if I am the only Jedi a new generation can look to, I must do it right, and I must do it transparently – Ruwee has been able to give me some insight," he said. "You all have."

"None of us are Force users," Jobal said curiously.

"No, but Anakin was," Luke said, "and Anakin was prohibited from experiencing a normal part of life that—transcends cultures," he said. "My education in the Force was presided over by relics of the Old Republic, and the Old Order – no doubt they wallowed in the years, picking apart their mistakes and identifying where they had stumbled, but their efforts in teaching me were targeted, very precisely, at disabling the Sith Empire – and in the aftermath, I have to balance what they taught me against what might have been fatal mistakes made by the dogma that raised them."

Luke swallowed hard.

"I seek answers through meditation with them, long discussions, when I'm able to reach out – and I piece together ideas from the memories of beings that were silenced for so long," he explained. "I've found that in some ways, the Jedi need to be redeemed as much as my father needed his redemption," he said quietly, "and I'm going to do that. I'm going to teach, and share, and _protect_."

"You know, of course," Jobal said, "that the Jedi Order believed Anakin to be a certain prophesized Chosen One – who would bring balance to the Force," she recited. "Perhaps they were wrong. Perhaps that prophecy referred to yourself and Leia."

"Leia's experiences with the Force, and her feelings on it, enrich my way of looking at it, too," Luke allowed, "and we – might function as two sides of a scale of sensitivity, and I suppose an analytical look at the legacy of Anakin Skywalker would argue that in fathering us, he set in motion an ultimate balance – but I believe that my father was the Chosen One," he said. "He killed the Emperor. He curtailed the power of the Sith. He returned to the light and was the last of the old regime to die."

Luke blinked, transfixed in his monologue.

"The Jedi Order had become…lost, in the years; it needed freshness, a cleansing. I was meant to carry that on. That's what I hope to do with my life," he said firmly. "Listen to the Force. Be guided by it. Raise a generation of conduits for that – connection to the universe."

Jobal nodded intently.

"I would so like to see you do that," she encouraged earnestly. "I would be so proud – we would all be proud, though I'm sure you'd like to hear I think your parents would be prouder than anyone."

Luke beamed, and hesitated for a moment.

"Jobal," he started. "Did my mother – _resent_ the Jedi?" he asked curiously. "It seems that – their doctrine poisoned her life, in a way."

Jobal sighed.

"I never heard Padmé speak poorly of the Jedi," she said honestly. "They protected her and believed in her when she was a fourteen-year-old queen, and I think she felt that all of their faults emanated from fiercely good intentions."

Jobal paused, tilting her head introspectively.

"What's very…difficult, I think, is that all that happened with Anakin, and Padmé – the secrecy, and the powder keg it came to be, can be taken two ways – on the one hand, you could argue that the Jedi were entirely right; the Force, mixed with wild, passionate emotion, such as love is, is dangerous – and yet Ruwee argues, and I believe he is mostly right, that the prohibitive nature of the Jedi Code, it's endeavors to bar the Jedi from natural experiences, in some respect – is why Anakin became so uncontrollably volatile in the first place."

She nodded to herself, pursing her lips.

"It's a terribly dangerous thing to make people feel shame for their emotions," she said softly. "What one should do is teach healthy handling of emotions, rather than ignoring them or punishing them."

Luke listened to her with rapt attention, his eyes wide.

"You – have a philosophy degree, don't you?" he remembered.

Jobal laughed suddenly, her face lighting up.

"I do, Luke – indeed, but _that_ bit of information," she winked, "I learned from at one point being a mother to toddlers."

Luke grinned, bowing his head respectfully to acknowledge her experience.

"I am sure that is a monumental feat in its own right," he said.

"You have no idea," Jobal quipped.

She smiled at him, and tilted her head.

"I hope you haven't minded me picking your brain," she said. "I know…Ruwee has had his difficulties adjusting to all of this, but I feel it's given me some closure, and a blessed way to remember Padmé," she said. "I hope to make an effort to cultivate a close relationship," she said, gesturing between them. "Even after you, and Leia, have to return to your lives."

Luke nodded earnestly.

"Let's start with considering you part of our lives," he said evenly. "Rather than thinking of it as – what we've done here at Varykino – merely an interlude."

"Yes, that's exactly what I want," Jobal agreed. "I've impressed upon Ruwee the need for him to make amends with Leia – and at least find some peace with Bail, but I think we've run up against most of the sore issues, and there's time still to experience each other."

She compressed her lips.

"And I do not share my husband's view that Leia made a visit here solely for a professional reasons to bolster her next political move," she added tightly.

"Leia's life is very political," Luke acknowledged gently, "but she's not heartless – if she preferred to keep Vader a caged part of a dark history, she would have made the announcement without emotionally involving herself with you."

Jobal seemed to agree with that.

"It's so recently that we met the two of you," she said kindly, "and yet it's natural that I love you both as if I've known you since the day you were born."

Luke flushed, smiling at her gratefully. He twisted his hands in the finely sewn tunics in his lap, basking in the familial connection, and he supposed that if Leia was getting half of the satisfaction he was from this effort in healing the wounds of the past, she was feeling uplifted, too.

* * *

Varykino seemed quiet in the early afternoon. Leia and Ruwee parted ways shortly after a laid back lunch with Pooja, and Leia was left feeling restless – feeling like wandering the grounds. She did not venture back towards the place where she had come face to face with the spiritual remnant of Anakin Skywalker – instead she paced the property line, down to the back fields, along the streams – and she wondered, lazily, where everyone was, and what they were doing - she hadn't come across anyone on her journey from Ruwee's office down to the back courtyard.

She finally heard noise as she came upon the banks of the lake down by the dock – she spotted Ryoo, sitting on the edge of the wooden pier, her pants rolled up to the knee and dangling off the edge of it. Looking around, Leia spotted her two boys playing in the mud near the water's edge, Indy drawing some sort of maze with a stick in the wet muck.

"Hi, Mrs. Solo," he called, glancing up and spotting her.

Iver looked up and waved brightly, and Ryoo turned her head, smiling.

"Hi, Leia," she greeted warmly.

Leia smiled pleasantly and came forward slowly, standing just off to the side of her cousin on the dock. Ryoo tilted her head up and shaded her eyes with one hand, jerking her foot a little to indicate the empty space next to her.

"Sit down," she suggested, and then winked one eye, "it's not as wet or dirty as it looks. It's only old."

Leia obliged – her feet didn't come near as close to touching the water as Ryoo's did, but she still leaned forward to cuff the edges of her leggings – and she unbuckled and slipped off her sandals to make herself even more casual. She set them aside, smirking as she did so –

"I'm not quite as prissy as I look," she said lightly. "I had to sleep in a cave, in the mud once," she revealed. "Imperial assassins were camped out on the path back to the ship I was supposed to rendezvous with," she explained. "It was cold, and Han," she paused, shaking her head. She grinned. "Han suggested we sleep together to keep warm, and he told me the only other option was slathering my skin in mud to clog my pores and keep heat in."

"That doesn't sound medically correct," Ryoo snorted skeptically.

"No," Leia agreed, "but I did it anyway, to spite him."

Ryoo laughed out loud, tilting her head back and leaning back on her arms. She kicked her feet a little.

"Well, Han persevered," she said wryly. "He prevailed on you eventually, I see."

Leia nodded.

"Don't tell him I like him, though," she joked, deadpan. "I told him I only slept with him to shut him up."

"And the marriage?"

"He's a _very_ good cook."

Ryoo laughed again, tilting her head at Leia and arching a brow.

"You're funny," she said brightly. "You often _say_ funny things at press conferences, but most people think it's written for you."

Leia laughed dryly. She shrugged.

"No, I don't have speech writers," she murmured. "I have grammar specialists edit my work and advise on the cross-cultural meanings of words, but I write for myself, for the most part. That way I'm never tempted to blame someone else for what I've said."

"Isn't that a lot of work?" Ryoo asked.

Leia let out a breath.

" _Yes_ ," she said, laughing. She rolled her head from side to side, easing tension in her neck. "I haven't done it all week; it's been a relief."

Ryoo smiled. She looked to the side to check on the boys.

"Iver, no," she called firmly. "Do not get in the lake," she reminded him. "Indy," she added, and Indy leapt forward and snatched up Iver, awkwardly carrying him away from the edge towards a bank. Iver scowled at the both of them, but sat down and picked up a toy to occupy himself with.

"They love the water," Ryoo noted.

"Where's Maiah?" Leia asked.

"Hmm, oh, she's…with my mother," Ryoo answered. "She _doesn't_ like water, or mud, or sticks, or insects, " Ryoo trailed off, arching her brows, and Leia smiled fondly.

"Mrs. Solo," Indy called, bouncing on his heels a few times. "Where's Mr. Solo?"

Leia thought about it for a moment – she wasn't sure where Han was; she actually hadn't seen him since this morning. She was about to admit to not knowing, but then she remembered – it had been a few days since he had been down to the private hangars of the Lake Country, so of course –

"He's down at the _Falcon_ ," she answered.

"Oh, okay," Indy responded, and returned to playing with his brother.

Leia leaned a little closer to Ryoo, a sheepish look on her face.

"I don't mind if they call me Leia," she said quietly.

"I don't either," Ryoo admitted. "Not really, but I want them to learn good manners, and they don't know _exactly_ why you all are here. I'll let them ease up on the manners as the days go by."

"Why _do_ they think we're here?" Leia asked curiously – she remembered Luke telling her that the little ones had not been informed of the familial connection.

"Oh, we didn't make up anything extravagant," Ryoo said breezily. "We said you're visiting because you're Pooja's friends and because the Viceroy knew Padmé – all of which is true." Ryoo paused, and tilted her head back and forth. "We just can't quite tell them how you're related without explaining Vader, and I don't intend to keep that from them, but I also think it's foolish to ask a five-year-old to keep that secret," she went on, "and if we don't tell them that part, but they go around excitedly sharing that they're related to Princess Leia and Luke Skywalker, there will be questions."

Leia nodded – that was more than true, and she was glad to hear that Ryoo both appreciated the delicacy of the situation, but also seemed to dismiss the notion of keeping Vader a secret from her children – it made her feel like the family might not be resistant to the idea of Leia sharing the connection.

"Second cousin is a strange concept for little kids, anyway," Ryoo laughed. "I'd have to draw a diagram, and they'd get bored – maybe it's easier for you to just be aunts and uncles."

Leia smiled.

"I think I'd like that," she agreed.

Ryoo sighed.

"That's –nice to hear," she admitted. "For a split second I thought I might have made you feel uncomfortable," she gestured over towards the kids. "I get the impression they stir up a lot of things for you."

Leia shrugged. She crossed her ankles.

"It's not _them_ ," she said. "It's been…the idea in general." She reached up and brushed some loose strands of hair back.

Ryoo was quiet, and then she pulled her legs up, crossing them, and leaning forward. She rested her hands on her ankles and looked at them for a moment before glancing over at Leia. She seemed to hesitate, and then she took a deep breath.

"I asked Whyler to make sure the kids weren't hard for you because you had lost one," she said bluntly. "Han told him that wasn't it."

"That _isn't_ it," Leia agreed, tapping her toes against the top of her foot. "They just made it impossible for me to avoid a conversation I was trying to avoid," she admitted dryly.

"I just hope that I, or Whyler - that we haven't contributed to any problems – "

"No," Leia murmured. She looked up. "Han and I are responsible for our own relationship - and this, to be blunt, was mostly my responsibility," she said dryly.

"I'm still sorry for interfering," Ryoo said warily.

Leia nodded, but shrugged, and then – to Ryoo's surprise, grinned a little.

"I went such a long time without family," she said quietly. "After…Alderaan," she reflected, "and even after my father's rescue – I forgot what it was like to be surrounded by a mass of relatives, and I forgot how – "

"Everyone is in your business?" Ryoo supplied. Leia laughed, and Ryoo nodded safely, an appreciative smirk crossing her lips. "It's well-meaning."

"Maddening," Leia said.

"So obnoxious," Ryoo groaned.

"But," Leia agreed. "Well-meaning."

"Mami," called Iver excitedly. "Look at me skip this rock!"

Leia and Ryoo both looked over, and Iver demonstrated his prowess – fledgling, but Ryoo clapped her hands and cheered as if it was an Olympic feat, and Iver lit up brightly, delighted with the praise.

"You keep working that arm, buddy, and you'll be a Smashball champion!" she encouraged.

Iver scrambled to go searching for more rocks, while Indy gave Ryoo a long-suffering look, and shook his head, turning to help his little brother. Ryoo grinned, glancing back at Leia, and shrugging.

"He's got an awful arm," she confided, "but if he practices, he'll be a great pitcher, and I don't want him to lose hope."

Leia smiled thoughtfully, looking down at her feet – and at the water. She didn't know where she'd be without her father's constant support and encouragement; she wondered how long ago she would have given up if she hadn't been told from birth that she could do anything.

"Leia?" Ryoo ventured after a moment.

She looked over at her, brows lifted expectantly.

"You can just push me into the lake if this is way out of line, but if you're looking for some insight on motherhood," she paused. "I'd…be happy to tell you about my experience, um – well, I was raising children under the Empire," she said quietly, "and I never foresaw the Empire falling, or the world getting better."

Leia tilted her head glancing up at the blue sky, and the cloud masking the afternoon sun. She felt an instinctive urge to decline, and put Ryoo off – she thought, right away, that she didn't need to hear it; she'd talked to Han, she told him she needed time, and she wasn't ready, and all those other platitudes – but perhaps there was merit in talking to more than one person - and Ryoo did have a point.

She cleared her throat and compressed her lips, looking back calmly, and nodding.

"Okay," Ryoo said. She took a deep breath. "Well, I'm sure you know," she noted dryly, "that Indy is not Whyler's son by blood, though we all consider him Whyler's and Whyler would never think of him as anything less."

"Of course not," Leia agreed whole-heartedly.

"Ah – yes, you understand," Ryoo said. "You were adopted. Right – when I got pregnant with Indy, I was barely twenty, and I was as wild as the unexplored reaches of space," she said frankly. "Pooja was trying to find a way to be Padmé as quietly as possible and I was dealing with our exile and constant danger by doing all sorts of – I suppose, scandalous – things that made a statement, but not a _political_ statement. I wasn't brave enough to buck the Empire, but I was…I don't know," she sighed. "I was bucking something."

Leia watched her intently, fascinated.

"Anyway, I got pregnant – my parents will put it diplomatically and say that the man responsible ran off, but the actual story is – I couldn't tell you with any certainty _which_ man he was. I had a lot of men," she said dryly. "And I was alone, and in school, and I had to decide what I wanted to do."

Leia nodded.

"You had Indy," she said slowly.

"I did, and I…truly don't think it crossed my mind to choose anything else. It was more a matter of deciding if I was going to get myself together or if I was going to continue being misguided and lost, even after I had him. And I had to reflect on what kind of life he was going to have, and what I could give him. Now – the Empire was a choking shadow, at that point, so I knew the galaxy itself was unsafe," she put her hand to her chest, "but I felt I could give him a good life, as far as the things I could control."

Ryoo shrugged.

"It helps that my family was very supportive. They helped, a lot. Indy was like…the center of attention, everyone's little darling. And then I met Whyler, and he never for a second thought it was a hassle or a problem that I already had a child, and that meant a lot – obviously, we got married, but at that point, it became a matter of making the planned decision to have a child in such a…threatening time," she said.

Leia nodded again, folding her hands in her lap. Ryoo chewed on her lip for a moment.

"I can't really vocalize how much I love Indy, or how it felt to hold him for the first time," she said softly. "I wanted that again, so that had a lot to do with my decision to have more kids," she explained. "But," she said firmly, looking straight at Leia. "They give you hope. They're these…really wonderful little creatures that have all this capability and all of this opportunity, and they make you want to turn them into good people and do what you can to make your world better, and to teach them to do maybe one good thing in the world, so light stays in it," she said softly.

She clasped her hands together tightly, resting them under her chin.

"Indy made me a better person. I don't know if that's _always_ the case, because…I chose to keep Indy, I wanted him, and I think maybe if I hadn't, I'd have resented him. But he made me stronger, and more optimistic, and more open-minded. He taught me how to be selfless and he taught me how to love in a more mature way than I had ever known," she said, "because _nothing_ was just about me anymore."

She paused, and compressed her lips.

"I think being a parent is hard, and it's a risk, but for me it was worth it. They gave me hope, and they add so many layers of meaning to your life," she said, and then lifted her chin warily. "Well, don't think I mean your life is meaningless without kids," she added hastily. "Pooja doesn't want children, and she does good things for the world every day, and she loves _my_ kids. And someone like you…you help people every day. Your life obviously has meaning – but I wouldn't be talking to you about this if you were someone who had already decided, flat-out, that you don't want children," she looked at Leia curiously. "You're scared, right?"

Leia leaned forward, squinting and looking out over the lake. She nodded vaguely – it was more or less the same thing she'd told Han, and so much of what Ryoo said was analogous to what Han had said about _his_ reasons for wanting children – those reasons that had come damn close to making her cry, and still left a warm feeling in her chest.

Ryoo shrugged.

"It's the scariest fucking thing you'll _ever_ do," she said bluntly. "I know you've done some scary stuff in your life, and I still feel confident saying that," she laughed.

Leia laughed hoarsely, swinging her feet.

"When Han and I fought about it," she said, finally speaking, though she was very soft about it, "he kept trying to get me to admit I wanted them – he figured I had decided I didn't without asking him, and it's my fault he interpreted it that way," she admitted. "The whole time he was arguing with me, I was thinking – _of course I want them, of course I want children with you, you idiot_ – " she broke off, laughing sheepishly. "I couldn't get the words out."

The problem was - it had felt like admitting she wanted something she she wasn't sure she could have. She already had so much that she never though she would, after Alderaan, and she didn't want to invite anything in that would put any sadness in her life; she'd had enough. She had always had an easier time coping with uncertainties if she refrained from confronting them - and this issue, it was so complex - she shook her head, and lifted a brow at Ryoo.

"Except – my father was Darth Vader, and the Force is dangerous," she sighed, "and I don't think I'm cut out for motherhood."

"Why?" Ryoo asked curiously. She shrugged. "You don't have to answer, it's just – half the battle is wanting them, and loving them."

Leia grit her teeth.

"I don't know," she said, searching herself for an answer. "The stakes are too high. If I made a mistake -"

"You will make mistakes," Ryoo said. "It's impossible to raise kids perfectly. I mean, think of your own father, Leia - and I mean Bail, Anakin had nothing to do with raising you – do you think he ruined your life?"

Leia looked appalled.

"No," she said.

"But do you think he made _mistakes_?" Ryoo pressed.

Leia whistled quietly.

"Yes," she answered immediately. A wry smile touched her lips. "But my _mother_ was perfect."

"I doubt it," Ryoo said patiently. "You remember her that way, because she's passed away. It's hard to remember the faults of the dead."

Leia fell silent, thinking. Again, she smiled a little. She accepted Ryoo's assessment.

"You know what, Leia?" Ryoo said earnestly. "Bad mothers don't think they're bad mothers. It's the good ones who think they're failing every day. It's trying, with the _best_ intention, that counts."

Leia cleared her throat softly.

"I have this diary that belonged to Anakin's mother," she said slowly. "Shmi Skywalker. It seems she had all of that, and yet," Leia broke off. "It still seems like an illogical gamble, sometimes – particularly when my bloodline has this…darkness in it."

Ryoo smirked.

"You're talking to the wife of a former high stakes gambler," she said wryly. "Whyler will tell anyone who will listen that gambling is not illogical. It's calculated," she said. "Let him lecture you sometime. He'll school you in Sabacc so well that you make Han's head spin."

Leia laughed, and Ryoo grinned at her openly.

"You gambled when you married Han, didn't you?" she asked softly. "Placing your heart in another person's hands is…the ultimate gamble."

"He's an adult, conscious person, though," Leia said hoarsely. "A baby is…something I'd inflict my life, and my history on – they have no choice in being born."

Ryoo shrugged.

"Well, that enters into the realm of the sort of philosophical that gives me a headache," she snorted. "Having children has been a cornerstone of survival for millennia," she pointed out. "You should think about it carefully, for sure, but overthinking it might threaten the survival of the species," she joked.

Leia grinned, her face flushing. She laughed at herself.

"For what it's worth, if babies could choose their families, I think one or two would be pretty thrilled to have you and Han, and all the people you surround yourselves with, in their lives," Ryoo said matter-of-factly.

Leia smiled, charmed.

"And you," she said. " _All_ of you," she said, looking over her shoulder at Varykino, rising on the cliffs.

"The Naberrie family raises good children," Ryoo said confidently, looking over at two of her three. "I'm doing my best to carry that on," she said proudly. "You ought to ask my mother and grandmother about their experiences, too," she said. "I guess you…don't actually have that many people around you who have chosen to have children."

"And I can't ask my mother," Leia said softly. She sighed. "I wouldn't," she added sadly. "Too painful a subject for her."

Ryoo inclined her head respectfully.

"I told Han it has to be an…ongoing conversation," Leia said hesitantly.

"I don't see anything wrong with that. If you're planning on picking the perfect time to have a baby, the perfect time is never," Ryoo joked. "I had a _five_ -year-old when I got pregnant with the twins and I _still_ panicked – _what the hell am I doing!?_ I asked myself."

Leia laughed, resting her chin in her palm, and Ryoo arched a brow, nodding.

"I hope I've said something useful," she said. "Enlightened," she teased. "I'm just an interior decorator, though."

Leia reached out to touch her hand, thanking her silently.

"I appreciate your insight," she said sincerely - and she did, wholeheartedly; it gave her more to think about. Ryoo was right – she didn't have any women in her circle who embodied motherhood; her political peers were mostly childless, or they were men who rarely spoke of their children in the workplace - she'd long ago decided she was going to die fighting in the Galactic Civil War, thought that death was inevitable, and when a peaceful future had unfolded instead, she was no longer the Princess Leia who had assumed a political marriage and heirs to the throne were part and parcel of her life - she had choices, and hard ones, and she had traumas to contend with.

Ryoo's experience did nothing to negate the lurking fear Leia had that she was incapable of having her own children – that was a different animal altogether, and in discussing her feelings on the matter, Leia realized constantly that her anxieties were complex, and multi-faceted – she'd always known they were, but it was more glaring.

She fell into a trap of feeling like she had to tell Han, immediately, in the black and white, right now, whether she wanted kids, and she had to take a deep breath and calm down and remind herself that – kriff, they'd only been married six months, she was only twenty-five, they had time, she deserved to take that time to be at peace with the idea – she had the right to that peace.

Leia pushed her hair back again and smiled to herself, taking a deep breath.

"Ryoo," she said, pursing her lips. "What you said – when we first arrived, about twins running in the family," she said lightly. "Did you mean it?"

Ryoo laughed loudly.

"Yes," she said smugly. "Ah, see, now you've got reasons to fear," she teased. "Gran-Papa's mother was a twin, and so was Gran-Mama's father. The way they skip generations for us means there are twins in every generation, sometimes twice," she explained.

She started laughing again.

"It's funny because we always joked that Mami's generation was missing their twins," she giggled, "and we found you!"

Leia grinned. She nodded over at Iver.

"I should be safe, though," she said wryly. " _You_ had the twins."

Ryoo shrugged mysteriously. She reached over and put her arm around Leia's shoulders, and Leia allowed the affection, leaning into her easily. She smiled, and bit her lip, turning to meet Ryoo's eyes.

"I'm sorry for how…tumultuous I've made things," she said tiredly. "The fighting, and the – nightmares – "

"Oh, nonsense," Ryoo said seriously, hugging Leia tightly. "That stuff is just part of being family."

Leia smiled softly, relaxing, and lifted her other arm to return her cousin's hug. Ryoo smiled at her, and then pulled away and glanced over her shoulder.

"You know," she said, speaking in low tones. "You and Han should go skinny dipping in the stream on the back of the property," she said slyly. "All of us do it. It's a rite of passage. Pooja and I used to bring boys here and christen them that way."

Leia hesitated. She said nothing, her face blank, and Ryoo arched her brows at her, delighted.

"You already _have_!" she accused, figuring it out from the expression on Leia's face. She pushed her elbow into Leia's side gently, and Leia reached up to hide her face, blushing, and biting back a laugh.

"He threw me in," she protested, defending her actions. "I wasn't raised to go swimming naked on other people's property," she said loftily. "It simply isn't proper – "

"It's a rite of passage at Varykino," Ryoo interrupted grandly, waving her hand out. She wrinkled her nose with glee. "I can't wait to tell Pooja," she added smugly. "Family gossip – re-accustom yourself to it, _Your Highness_ ," she joked.

Leia bit her lip, shaking her head – and she thought she could re-accustom herself to it, with a fair amount of amiability, because these were good people, and they'd be blessings to have around as the years went on.

* * *

Han had indeed been down at the _Falcon_ all afternoon, holed up alone in the ship running diagnostics and checking the engines – it never hurt to wake the old girl up ever few days just to give her some attention, rather than leaving her powered-down and lonely and risk her malfunctioning at an inopportune time.

He'd also made a stop in the village, and spoken to Chewbacca on the comm – and Malla and Lumpy as well, of course, who both asked after Leia and spent entirely too much time thanking Han for allowing Chewie to visit for such a long stretch. The concept – that he _allowed_ Chewie to do anything was disturbing to Han; he had, after all these years, come to respect the deeply significant Wookie tradition of a Life Debt, and he refrained from ridiculing it, but when Chewie's mate expressed gratitude for time with her husband, it brought up Han's vaguely buried feelings that the Life Debt was a different kind of slavery, and Han had broken Chewie out of his shackles so he would be _free_ to live his life as he wished.

 _[How is it there, Cub?]_ Chewbacca had asked probingly. _[Is Leia having a nice time?]_

 _Yeah, buddy, I think she is_ – he'd answered, and, without revealing too much, assured Chewbacca that a lot of the tensions between them, which the Wookiee had been noticing back on Coruscant, had dissipated. Chewbacca seemed pleased at that – and eager to see them again.

Han folded up the paper bag he was carrying and shoved it half-into his trouser pocket, hiking up the cliffs to Varykino without much hurry. He strolled around to the back entrance – the preferred entrance – and slowed as he came upon Bail and Ruwee in the courtyard.

He stood at the edge of the mansion for a moment, eyeing them warily, and then approached, his boots falling loudly on the stone beneath his feet – he had no intention of sneaking, or eavesdropping. They seemed to be finishing their conversation though, as they were in the midst of a firm handshake when Bail turned to find the source of the footfalls.

"Han," Bail greeted.

Han came to a stop, and Ruwee released the Viceroy's hand, giving Han a nod of welcome as well. Han returned it silently – he hadn't really said more than one or two short sentences to Ruwee since the man had directed his animosity towards Leia at the dinner table.

Ruwee looked at him a moment, and then turned back to Bail.

"I'm comfortable never touching on this subject again," he said simply. "The past is the past and it cannot be changed. So long as you understand, Bail, that much as I appreciate your care for Leia, I maintain that it was wrong of you to have taken then from us," he paused, eyeing Bail firmly, "or, if that was unavoidable, wrong of you to still exclude us from the fold even after the immediate danger had faded."

Bail inclined his head, and Han watched him say nothing, accepting the verdict, and refraining from responding with any self-defense, or critique. Han felt a sudden urge to jump in and defend Bail – partly because he already harbored bitterness towards Ruwee for his remarks, and – he realized, abruptly – because Bail was _his_ family, and only _he_ had the right to berate him –

"I respect your feelings on that," Bail said, calm and diplomatic – Han was unsure if his father-in-law respectfully _disagreed_ , or genuinely felt he may have made a mistake in that department.

Ruwee cleared his throat, and turned to Han.

"Han," he said evenly. "I've offered my apologies to Leia. I made an inexcusable comment. You were right to shout at me."

Han blinked at him, quiet for a moment.

"Yeah," he agreed simply.

Bail shot him an annoyed look.

"You live with a diplomat," he said. "You can't tell me you haven't learned anything from Leia about how to respond when someone _makes amends_ with you."

Han shrugged, hooking his thumbs into his pockets. He jerked his chin at Ruwee pointedly.

"He said he was sorry for bein' a dick," he retorted. " _I_ didn't do anything. I wasn't out of line," he argued. What d'you want me to apologize for?"

"I'm not asking you to apologize," growled Bail. "I'm suggesting you be gracious."

Han glared at him, and then cocked his head at Ruwee.

"Thanks for feelin' bad about it," he said, deadpan.

Bail widened his eyes, and put a hand over his face, gritting his teeth - but Ruwee Naberrie laughed, crossing his arms. He sighed thoughtfully, and arched his brows at Han.

"You're welcome," he said wryly.

Han shrugged.

"You set thing right with Leia?" Han asked, needing more clarification. "You on good terms with her?"

"Yes, I would say so," Ruwee answered slowly.

Han nodded.

"That's her business, then, her feelings," he said firmly. "I got no problem with you, if she doesn't."

Ruwee inclined his head.

"And I have none with you, Han," he said pleasantly. He turned to Bail again, and gave him a thoughtful nod. "Jobal and I _would_ like to sit down with you and hear about Leia's childhood," he said, obviously answering an earlier conversational thread that had been laid down before Han arrived. "Thank you for offering."

His words were a little stiff, faintly tinted with resentment, but it was clear he was attempting to push that aside for the sake of forging good bonds with newfound family. Han figured Ruwee probably felt like Han had when he'd tried to walk a line between viewing Bail as catalyst for Leia's issues, and as a good man who only wanted to re-establish a relationship with his only daughter.

Ruwee nodded his head, and bowed out, starting down the path out of the courtyard.

"Where's he goin'?" Han muttered.

"Padmé's grave," Bail answered mildly. He turned and looked at Han curiously. "Have you been back there to see it?"

"No," Han answered, tapping his heel on the stone patio. He shrugged – it didn't really mean anything to him, on an emotional level. He didn't have the drive to just wander out there and look on his own, and if Leia or Luke wanted him to come out with them to reflect, they'd ask, and he'd go - but otherwise –

"You know, Han," Bail ventured wryly; "you don't have to take your cues from your wife on how you feel about people. You can make your own decisions."

Han glared at him, a few seconds passing before he realized Bail was mocking him. He rolled his eyes and took a few steps back, leaning against one of the pillars.

"Where have you been all afternoon?" Bail asked.

" _Falcon_ ," Han grunted. He jerked his head in the direction Ruwee had headed off in. "You been doin' your diplomatic thing with him all day?" he asked.

Bail nodded a little.

"Saw the handshake," Han muttered. "Figure that means you aren't gonna try to hit him again."

Bail looked down at his fist sheepishly, and reached up and touched his jaw – where he had fallen, and hit it on the edge of a table when he lost his balance in a terribly planned right-hook attempt on Ruwee after dinner several nights ago. The Viceroy sighed, his shoulders falling a little.

"We're at an understanding - that being that the past can't be changed, as you heard," he said.

Han grunted.

"You still think you did the right thing?" he asked.

Bail folded his arms and considered Han thoughtfully for a moment. He lifted his shoulders, and nodded.

"Yes, I do," he said, quiet but confident. "I agree…that Luke and Leia were primarily protected by the fact that no one knew they had been born," he allowed, "but I think it would have been a much easier puzzle to piece together had they been here, or had the Naberries been in anyway connected with my family, or the Larses."

Han nodded.

"I think the Naberries would have done a wonderful job raising Luke and Leia – one of them, or both," Bail said honestly. "It was never about anything like that."

Han shrugged.

"Ahh, they both turned out fine," he said wryly. He arched a brow, and held up a hand, balling it into a fist. "Y'know, I can teach you how to throw a punch," he mocked, deadpan. "Useful skill."

"You aren't worried I might turn that skill on you?" retorted Bail.

"Nah," Han said coolly. "I'd teach you not to embarrass yourself, but I wouldn't teach you how to beat me," he gloated.

"Perhaps I would surprise you," Bail countered. "I did bring down _twice_ as many fowl as you on the hunt."

"'Cause I wasn't tryin'," blustered Han.

"Were you not?" Bail asked in a patronizing tone. "You _seemed_ to be concentrating very hard. In fact, it _looked_ like you were simply bad at hunting – " he went on baiting Han, and Han lifted his hand to his face, examining his nails.

"Yeah, I was concentratin' on what I was gonna do to Leia that night," he tapped his finger against his temple and smirked roguishly.

Bail gave him a withering look and turned his head away, refusing to engage. Han grinned and shifted his weight, scuffing his foot and crossing his legs at the ankle, the pillar behind him supporting most of his weight. He picked at the paper bag in his pocket, and Bail glanced over at it.

"What is that?"

Han folded the top of the bag, shrugging.

"Somethin' I grabbed for Leia in the village," he muttered.

Bail arched his brows.

"You went shopping?" he asked.

Han gave him a look.

"I went to the village," he retorted.

"To go shopping? For Leia? On a whim?" Bail pressed.

"It wasn't _shopping_ ," Han countered.

"What was it?"

"It, I," Han started.

"Shopping is what one does when one is aimlessly intent on spending money," Bail informed him smartly. "You either went into the village to get something specific and happened to find something for Leia, or you just went for the hell of it to get something for her."

Han glared at Bail. Bail blinked at him blithely.

"Is the gift to make amends for something?" Bail asked. "Have the two of you had another fight?"

Han shook his head, folding his arms. He waved his hand a little stiffly.

"Hey, I don't buy Leia stuff after fights, it's like a bribe. It doesn't fix a damn thing," he muttered.

Bail arched his brows, and looked impressed.

"Well, if you've gone and bought her something for no reason, that's very sweet," he remarked.

Han shrugged. Bail tilted his head at his son-in-law.

"At the risk of you jumping down my throat," he began dryly. "Have you and Leia…spoken?" he ventured warily. "Ah, you both seem less – tense."

Han smirked a little.

"Did we really seem that tense?" he asked, tilting his head. "Or do you just keep sayin' that because she talked to you about it before she talked to me, and you don't want me to get pissed?"

Bail shook his head.

"No, it isn't that," he said. "I did notice the tension – not so much on Coruscant, not at all, really," he mused. "I noticed it _increasingly_ here. The more _you_ interacted with the kids."

Han snorted and looked down at his feet.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Me too," he noted. He tilted his head back and sighed.

"She didn't talk to me very much, Han," Bail said honestly. "She cut herself off."

"Yeah," Han said again. He reached up and rubbed his jaw. "Uh, well, whatever she said to you, made you say somethin' to me, and I kind of figured out why she wouldn't talk to me," he mumbled. "I don't think it'll be a problem again."

"You've made your peace with…that fight?" Bail inquired. "You're on good terms?"

"Yeah, we are," Han said firmly.

Bail nodded, a relieved look on his face.

"I'm glad to hear it," he said.

Han grinned at him smugly.

"Shucks, Viceroy, I had no idea you liked me so much."

Bail rolled his eyes.

"I love Leia, and you make Leia happy," he retorted, non-committal, "for some reason," he added darkly.

Han grinned.

"There's that old Organa logic," he sad dramatically. "It's been used to deny how wonderful I am," he pointed to himself, "since the Battle of Yavin."

" _What_ are you talking about?" Bail groused.

Han just rolled his eyes good-naturedly, thinking about all the times Leia had jumped through intricate mental hoops to explain why she was asking him to stay with the Rebellion rather than just explaining to him it was because she _liked_ him.

He rolled his head back against the pillar again and relaxed his shoulders, wondering what Leia was up to, but in no hurry to go interrupt if she was doing something with her cousins or anyone else in the house.

"How is Chewbacca?" Bail asked.

"Ahh, he's good. Havin' a good visit with his family," Han answered. He lifted his head. "Rouge?" he countered, with a smug look.

Bail gave a long-suffering sigh.

"She wants to redecorate the living quarters at the Embassy Residence," he said warily.

Han laughed, but winced sympathetically.

"So, what, you got to help pick out curtains and all that?" he asked smugly.

"She's my sister, not my wife," Bail retorted. He tilted his head. "Though my wife did not bother herself with picking out curtains – ever," he reflected.

"Hmm," Han muttered. "Yeah, the way Leia talks about her – she had more important things to do."

"Never let Rouge hear you imply that curtains are not important," Bail warned, eyes wide – and Han snorted, shaking his head.

"I don't go out of my way to bug Rouge," Han said innocently.

"Bantha shit," Bail said cheerily.

"Watch your language, _Dad_ , you're a Viceroy."

Bail laughed outright, folding his arms again.

"So, what do you think, Han," Bail asked, switching gears. "Are we in a position to make the rest of this visit run smoothly? Is all the ice broken, so to speak?"

Han reached up and rubbed his neck, cracking the joints in it thoughtfully. Truth be told, so far – it hadn't actually been as tumultuous as Han expected. There had been moments – one or two big ones – but Leia had done her best to be herself, and to be open with her cousins, and her aunt, and her grandparents, and she seemed to be benefitting from it – and even if they had spent the first week in a multi-layer stand off which other, they had handled themselves, and they'd go back home to work and the stress of professional duties all the better for it.

He grit his teeth and looked at Bail slyly.

"That your way of asking me to prank Ruwee?" he asked.

His father-in-law laughed, albeit dryly.

"I'll do what I can to avoid alienating the man," he said empathetically.

Han smirked, falling silent for a moment. He nodded slowly.

"They're decent people," he said gruffly. "'M glad Leia has 'em. This is…good for 'er," he decided quietly.

Bail looked relieved, and cautious.

"I had…worried that her – what was it, vision?" Bail's brow furrowed. "Sighting? – of Anakin Skywalker might provoke her to cut the visit short."

Han shrugged stiffly.

"She was more okay than I figured she'd be after that," he muttered skeptically. He furrowed his brow intently for a moment – she'd been very reserved on the subject, as if she couldn't quite decide how she felt about it herself.

Bail only nodded, grateful that it hadn't been too awful. He couldn't imagine – but then, he couldn't bring himself to imagine a lot of the things Leia had suffered since his presumed death, and subsequent resurrection.

Han lowered his chin and looked at Bail intently.

"She thought I'd leave 'er, you believe that?" he said abruptly, and Bail gave him a surprised look, unsure what he meant. "She thought I might leave 'er if she didn't want a baby," he said. He shook his head, and let it fall back against the pillar again. He laughed shortly. "I could never leave that woman," he muttered.

Bail looked at him, and smiled quietly – he was content, and more so as time went on, to know that Leia had Han in her life. He sighed.

"It's a hard topic to disagree on," he said – the same thing he'd said to Leia.

Han said nothing for a moment.

"You think it's worth it, don't you?" he asked gruffly, without looking at Bail. "Havin' 'em?"

Bail raised his brows.

"Yes," he said simply.

Han nodded to himself. He didn't necessarily think they disagreed anymore. Leia needed time. He could easily give her time. He hoped she was able to find a place where she liked the idea, but if she wasn't – he had meant it when he said it wasn't something he would leave her over. He only wanted her to be absolutely sure she wasn't holding back for the wrong reasons.

Bail took a few steps back, out of the rays of the setting sun, squinting his eyes – yes, he tended to think the next week would be less eventful, in terms of growing pains - but the next week was also much needed, a more vigorous dive into familiarity. With the surface scratched and the first contact made, there were strong, proverbial bridges to build.

Han reached down to his pocket and picked at the paper bag there, drawing himself up and clearing his throat, intent on seeking Leia – it wasn't much, what he'd gotten her, just something to make her smile, remind her he was always thinking about her. He brushed his palms off on his trousers, and stepped away from the pillar, heading for the mansion – only to nearly run into Leia coming out the doorway.

She caught him, placing her hands on his arms lightly, and smiled, pleasantly surprised. She looked around, and nodded at her father, a smirk crossing her lips.

"Ah, I was looking for you two," she said. "Bonding, are we?"

Both Han and her father gave her unintelligible grumbles, refusing to admit that they'd been hanging around together – despite having clearly just being doing so, and incredibly amiably, at that.

"Sola's pulling a cask of Lake Country wine from the cellar," she murmured.

Bail cleared his throat, looking interested, and stepped by them, ducking into the house. Leia watched him go, and turned to Han, tilting her head at him as if to silently ask if everything was alright – and he smiled at her warmly, lifting his hand to the back of her head, and bending down to kiss her.

She brushed her fingertips against his jaw lightly, and he pulled back, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the paper bag. He handed it to her casually, lifting his hand to run it through his hair with deliberate nonchalance.

"What is this?" Leia asked softly him a mildly chastising look. "Han," she said, pursing her lips. She peeked in the little bag, and pulled out a little palm-sized piece of glass, delicately painted with vibrant emerald ink – a bit of glass artwork from the foothill village booths, and this one was in the form of a songbird.

"Why?" she asked quietly.

She looked up at him curiously, her expression soft, and he shrugged lightly.

"It looked like somethin' you'd think was pretty," he answered gruffly. He flashed her a smirk. "You always liked it when I brought you stuff out of the blue on Hoth," he drawled. "Don't deny it."

She bit her lower lip lightly, and ran two fingers gently over the little trinket, her face flushing a pale shade of pink with the truth of his statements – then it had slowly made her realize that Han was always there, always around, thinking about her – and now it reminded her that Han had always had that soothing penchant of treating her like a normal woman, rather than a princess, or a soldier, or a politician.

"'M not goin' anywhere, Sweetheart," he said quietly. "Ever." He reached out and touched her jaw. "You got to know that?" he said, his eyes on hers – almost pleadingly – stubborn, resolved, and pleading. "I swear."

Leia closed the glass art in her palm carefully, tucking her arm in towards her chest – she nodded, her eyes on his wordlessly, conveying without words that she understood. She stepped forward and rested her cheek on his shoulder, taking a deep breath, and letting it out, and he put an arm around her, and let out a slow breath, going back to Bail's earlier question, and answering it himself – _yeah, Viceroy, we can get through the rest of this – smooth sailing._

* * *

 _teeny, minor time jump for chapter ten - and by that i mean, here we are, a week into the visit to Varykino (which is slated to be two weeks) ... chapter ten will start near the end of the two weeks._

 _feedback appreciated!_

 _-alexandra_


	11. Ten

_a/n: alas, the final chapter! apologies for it's tardiness, but at least we did not run into an Identity situation._

* * *

 _Ten_

 _End of Visit; 6 ABY_

* * *

Towards the end of their visit to Varykino, Leia arranged for a private, generally low key visit to the home of the Alderaanian carpenter whom her father had commissioned to craft the wedding gift he gave her last year – the intricately done, delicately beautiful Hydenock jewelry box with her falcon device set into it, and her mother's crown jewels nestled inside.

It was an idea she had initially toyed with, though sometimes she found herself caught between a rock an a hard place when it came to such endeavors – on one hand, she might be considered cold, and unfeeling, if she did not reach out to her people; on the other, there were some wont to call her calculating and eager for good publicity if she did go out of her way – so she weighed her options quietly, and decided to go with her heart –

\- and her feelings told her, _reminded_ her again, that she would never please every being in the Media, much less every being in the galaxy, and she set out to see him – because he'd made her something so beautiful, and she couldn't give less of a damn about being spotted as long as she felt sincere in thanking him, and making a connection.

This trip was about family, and healing from the past – was it not? The loss of Alderaan was something she still struggled to heal from, after all – and she wanted her people to know that, as much as she wanted to accept the Naberries into her inner circle, as well.

She organized the foray into the Theed suburbs for mid-day, so that the majority of people – press included – would be absorbed in their work day; it worked out well, as Pooja needed to go into the capitol to resolve some issues she could not do from home – Leia, accompanied by her father, went with her. She dropped them at the address Rouge had provided for them when Leia inquired – he had moved since Bail commissioned him – and they resolved to meet Pooja in the center of the Theed commons when they were done, so she could give them a small tour of the gardens Padmé had constructed when she was queen in an effort to encourage investment in environmental preservation.

The others – Han, Luke, and the rest – stayed back at Varykino, where Han had promised, _promised,_ he would take the children – and Whyler, who didn't want to admit he wanted it, being a grown man, but was eager for a chance to say he'd been – out to fly in the _Falcon_.

Maiah had wanted to come with Pooja and Leia, but had been happily placated when Ryoo promised Leia would be back before bedtime, and Leia had added that Maiah was welcome to play with her hair when she returned, which sent the five-year-old into a frenzy of glee, and had Sola giving Leia an alarmed look – _Do you have any idea what she'll do to it?!_

Leia shrugged, demurred – it was just hair, and if Maiah truly destroyed some of it, Leia wasn't averse to cutting off a few more inches, no matter how awfully chagrined Rouge would be –

The Alderaanian carpenter's little bungalow near a historic stone street outside of Theed was cozy, covered in purple ivy, blessed with pear trees in the front yard – and Leia saw it, and hoped it made him feel safe, and at home – she always felt a deep, earnest desire for members of the Diaspora to have found stable places to recover, if they could.

His name was Igo Gareth, and he opened the door to them with his head already bowed, a flicker of awed wonder in his eyes when Leia kindly bid him stand up straight - and she knew that this was a simple man who, in a different world – a world that no longer existed – would never in his life have crossed paths with the royal family, and yet here stood the Princess, and the Viceroy, alone on his doorstep without crowns, or guards, or ceremony – and it spoke to the magnitude of changes that had occurred in only a handful of years.

"Your Highness, My Lord," he greeted, stepping back, bowing his head, welcoming them in – "Please, welcome to my home – I must apologize, it is simple – it doubles as my workshop, somewhat messy – " he fumbled, smiled faintly, and stopped talking, and Bail was quick and gracious to try and assuage his nerves –

"You need not apologize. Consider us an intrusion into your sanctuary – treat us no different than any other guest."

Igo Gareth laughed lightly, shaking his head, and clasping his hands –

"That is a thing I may try to do, but at which I will likely fail," he said eloquently, and Leia smiled brilliantly at him – his demeanor was so full of Alderaanian peace and courtesy, and she felt at ease with it instantly, and the more at ease she was, the easier it was for her to calm the people around her.

"We aren't here for any official business, or to stand on ceremony," she said gently. "To commiserate, really. To connect," she explained. She held out her hand gracefully. "These…tragedies have had a way of tearing down social castes, have they not?"

Igo smiled, beckoning them reverently into a sunny sitting room, where a tea decanter was simmering on a hot plate –

"Certainly, Your Highness," he agreed. "If I may be so bold - you yourself contributed to that in the most heartwarming of ways," he said thoughtfully.

Leia looked quizzical for a moment, and then laughed.

"Oh, you mean Han," she remarked.

"Had you forgotten about him, Leia?" Bail quipped wryly, giving her a look.

Leia tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear – she'd worn something as traditional to Alderaan as she could get, though because these days she kept her hair so much shorter than was traditional to her home planet, tendrils were escaping by the second.

"Not forgotten _him_ ," she said mildly. "I forget Han's not considered an equal match by some," she noted. "He lacks courtly manners, but he's got more decency than half the men I ever met in royal circles."

"Your Highness – I meant no disrespect to General Solo," Igo said quickly, his knuckles turning white as he twisted his hands – he looked at her with wide eyes. "I myself – never thought ill of him, or your marriage – "

Leia waved her hand soothingly, pursing her lips.

"I took no offense," she said honestly.

Igo's words had been positive, framed in the context of a man who had been raised on a planet that did have an established social hierarchy; he truly didn't mean anything negative about Han, he meant to celebrate Leia's very liberal disregard of caste in favor of valuing personal merit – and Leia acknowledged that, and wished more people could understand it.

"Please, sit," Igo offered. "I'd be honored – you must know, I never thought I'd see the day I would be commissioned to make something for a Princess of Alderaan," he said faintly, "much less have her in my home."

"You should hardly be surprised, after the outstanding work you produced," Bail said, taking the offered seat on a small sofa – Leia followed suit, perching next to him, and nodding.

"Igo, it was breathtaking," she said honestly. "The detail on the carvings – it's wonderful that someone remembers the native birds so clearly."

"Very cathartic, reproducing them in art," Igo murmured softly. He turned to his boiling kettle – "May I offer you some tea? It's the finest one can get in Theed – nothing like Aldera rose petal blend but, alas," he trailed off, looking earnest, and both Bail and Leia accepted his offer.

The way he poured tea, and offered fixings for it, was reminiscent, and almost ceremonial, the way one would do so in any unassuming Alderaanian village, and Leia looked around his place, smiling to herself – there were hand-made things everywhere, all decorated with things that reminiscent of Alderaan, and it was like a place of healing.

"Igo, you must sit as well – I insist," Bail said firmly, as he added honey to his tea. "I'm sure Leia feels the same."

She nodded.

"If there's anything I learned growing up in the courts, it's that you sit when you're offered the opportunity," she laughed – remembering long ceremonies of standing with the weight of her hair piled on her head, and high, high heels killing the arch of her foot.

Igo sat down, though he did not quite relax, and he leaned forward, a curious expression on his face.

"Your Highness, I'm honored – as I've said, beyond honored – to have you in my home, but I must say, I'm at a loss – why have you taken any interest in visiting _me_?" He swallowed hard. "I of course do not mean to imply you're aloof – but you must be so busy."

Leia nodded, cupping her teacup and saucer in her palm.

"It's as simple as can be," she answered. "I wanted to thank you. As we said – the jewelry box my father commissioned was…truly beautiful," she complimented. "And when I found myself spending time on Naboo, it felt right to reach out to you, and give you that thanks in person," she explained.

He bowed his head, holding his palms out.

"You're very welcome. It was my pleasure. I was delighted to be asked – I had no idea you would be so fond of it," he said, flushing.

"More than fond," Leia sighed. "Igo, you're fortunate to have settled on Naboo," she murmured. "My place is on Coruscant now, and I'm sure you know that to someone raised on Alderaan, the City Planet can be – choking," she said, grimacing a little. "Having something hand-crafted and so reflective of the natural world brightens the place up – décor on Coruscant is so harsh and technical, most of the time."

Bail nodded, sharing Leia's sentiment.

"Even the woodwork is often done in factories, so it has a certain – impersonal, over-produced quality to it – horribly manufactured," he said.

"Far be it from me to criticize others' work, but," Igo leaned forward, and in a conspiratorial voice said – "I must agree."

Leia smiled wryly, and tilted her head around, admiring his place.

"Your home is lovely," she said sincerely. "Have you found peace here on Naboo? Is there anything you want for?" she pressed. "My Aunt Rouge tells me you're a part of the Diaspora network, but if there's anything you're in dire need of…?"

He shook his head.

"No, Your Highness, not at all," he said hurriedly. "I do well here. Naboo is – very like home, in some respects," he reflected, smiling sadly. "I think, oftentimes, that I might not have survived if I hadn't settled here – but this is where I'll spend my days now," he paused. "Though I do eagerly look forward to the Haven that is planned to be on – Yavin, is it not?"

"Ah, the Haven – yes," Bail said eagerly, his eyes glinting. He leaned forward. "It's coming along nicely – when construction is done, or mostly so, we intend to begin planning events, traditional events, and gather as many people as we can – much like the Memorial Gala, but larger in scale," he explained – he and Evaan Verlaine spent so much of their time immersed with Rouge on this project, and he was passionate about it – "If all goes to plan – even if it means pushing the date back – I hope to convene the official opening of the Haven on the anniversary of the Disaster."

Igo's face lit up, and he looked between them.

"And I understand – it is to be a home, a colony of sorts – not a new Alderaan, per se, but a place where those who are still lost and looking may gather?"

"Yes," Leia said gently. She smiled sadly, her jaw stiff. "There are many who…have not found as stable a place as you have, here."

"It was never easy," Igo said thickly. "I filled this house with art to jam the empty rooms and corners, to keep my mind clear."

"You had a family lost – to the Empire?" Leia asked quietly.

He nodded, blinking sharply.

"My husband Willas," he said hoarsely. "Three children."

Bail turned his palms up, and tucked his thumbs in a silent prayer symbol, sympathetic, and Leia nodded.

"What were their names?" she asked.

"My older boys were Levat and Jax," he said, and then inclined his head respectfully, "our little girl was called Leia, after you," he explained. "We adopted her, as you were adopted. The boys were from surrogates. I was at an art convention on Chandrila when it happened."

Leia smiled at him, and Bail sat back a little, clasping his hands.

"I will make it a point to light candles for them in the Alderaanian cathedral on Coruscant," he said gruffly. "Your husband, and your children." He shook his head heavily. "It's certainly an…unbearable loss."

"Yes," agreed Igo. He looked at Leia. "Yet in our darkest hours, we had reason to go on," he said intently. "I do not know if anyone has ever told you this but I – and many others I've spoken to, in the Diaspora – looked to _you_ when the despair reached a breaking point," he told her quietly. "I will never know what your experience was, but what _ever_ it was, thank you for bearing it," he said, "because there were days when your strength in fighting the Empire was the only thing keeping me alive."

Leia kept his gaze for a moment, and then lifted her chin, and flicked her eyes away – she wasn't uncomfortable, just unsure of her ability to remain composed, and she smiled very lightly at her father, compressing her lips.

"That," Bail said, looking gratefully at Igo, "is a very inspiring thing to hear." He smiled wryly. "I spent so long utterly unaware of how the world was carrying on without me."

"Princess Leia never wavered," Igo said firmly. He looked at the Viceroy confidently – "She had all the grace of Queen Breha and the clout of yourself and when nothing else was unfolding well, we were proud to have her representing us."

Leia looked back at him in silent gratitude, thinking to herself – _never wavered? If only you knew -_ but to know that someone, even if it was one person, felt she'd done her job, been their armor, been their leader, lived up to her parents' examples – then she could breathe a little easier –

\- and she hoped, she _hoped_ , that men and women like Igo, wouldn't change their minds when she revealed her bloodline to the world.

"Well, with flattery like this, I think I'll come for tea at your house more often," Leia quipped wryly, toasting Igo with her teacup.

He smiled at her easily, and seemed to relax, sitting back in his chair. He crossed his legs, and folded his hands in his lap.

"I speak for myself, but I know I speak for many others as well," he said honestly. "Any Alderaanian who disapproves of you is an outlier, Your Highness," he paused a moment, and then seemed more assertive: "Though I avoid the news these days, I felt you might need to hear that, considering some of the things said, by others."

"You're an astute man," Leia said hoarsely – gratefully.

He nodded.

"That you thought to visit me here only reinforces my high esteem of you," he said, and then smiled an almost joking smile: "Of course, my upbringing would preclude me ever having any disdain for any royal house of Alderaan – simply not proper."

Bail laughed –

"I think most people disdained my mother's reign," he joked wryly, and Igo looked petrified of the joke – Leia laid her hand on her father's elbow, and gave him a sharp look, rolling her eyes –

"Don't put the poor man in the position of making jokes about your mother," she chastised.

Bail grinned, and waved his hand dismissively – Igo let out a breath of relief, and then after a moment, his smile was back, though cautious.

"The Viceroy of Alderaan cracking a joke in my sunroom," he sighed. "That is a story I wish I could tell my family."

A silence fell, and Leia leaned forward.

"It's strange how intermittently that feeling hits, is it not?" she asked slowly, opening up a little. "I've found myself wishing I could tell my mother the _smallest_ of things," she confided, hoping it made him feel a little more connected. "The brilliant colour of a new pair of shoes I bought," she said softly.

Igo nodded in agreement.

"A joke I heard in the market that Willas would have loved," he offered.

Bail cleared his throat.

"To simply _call_ Breha when I think of her, instead of going through the constant shock of realizing she will never answer."

Again – silence fell, and Leia took a deep breath.

"Our duty to Alderaan is to persevere," she said.

"Yes," Igo agreed in a rush. "As it always has been – and Your Highness has been a constant reminder of that."

"Flattery," Leia laughed gently.

"Not flattery, if I may correct you," he said firmly. "Truth."

Leia held his gaze.

"Is there anything that would change your mind?" she quipped lightly.

Igo shrugged.

"I can hardly fathom you engaging in any action that would dishonor Alderaan, or your reputation," he said honestly.

Leia tilted her head and looked at her father, and he seemed unsurprised – and Leia felt a little cleansed, for if she could at least count on Alderaan, and her people's inherent, valuable capacity for kindness, and peace, and acceptance, to stand by her – she could likely whether the firestorm that would come from everywhere, and everyone, else.

"Igo," Bail began. "Leia and I – would like to continue to patronize you, here and there – your work," he said. "We have no intention of taking advantage of you, but if we may call upon you in the future - "

"Yes, oh – please do," Igo interrupted eagerly, and then looked appalled at himself. "My Lord – I apologize."

Bail laughed good-naturedly, shrugging. He sat forward, setting down his teacup upside down, as was Alderaanian custom, to indicate they would soon be leaving.

"There is some carving work I'd like done in around the Haven," he explained, "in the place my sister and I will live, when we're there," he said.

"And I," Leia began, "would like to see more of your work around my home, if you'd oblige," she said. "My husband and I will likely move in the next year or two, and I may look to you for furnishings."

Igo looked starstruck, and overwhelmed – even as Bail and Leia were rising, and Bail was thanking him for hosting them, and apologizing for the grandiose intrusion. Igo assured them it was no trouble, none at all, and as he saw them out, Leia let herself get absorbed in the art all around his house, much of it with little price tags on it, for anyone who came looking.

Out on the porch, she stopped and admired a little bureau, with two drawers, and lovely carved handles, tiny Alderaanian tulips decorating the top of it. She splayed her fingers on the tulips.

"Igo," she ventured mildly, looking up at him, blinking in the sun. "Is there – have you ever made a cradle?" she asked.

He nodded, his hands clasped at his chest.

"Several, You Highness," he said. "Simple, but sturdy."

She smiled at him placidly, and said nothing else – and it was Bail who confirmed all of Igo's contact information before they left, while Leia stood silently at his side – until they had said their goodbyes, and fell into step together, taking a leisurely walk towards the center of Theed.

Pooja had offered to fetch them, but the walk to the garden courtyard she wanted to show them – though lengthy – was peaceful, and the fresh air was nice, and since Leia's whereabouts on Naboo were not specifically known, they were safe – and in case they weren't, Leia had a small blaster strapped inside of her boot, unbeknownst to her father.

He was silent for a long time, even until the peaks of city buildings came into view, and then he put a hand on her elbow, and stopped her, his face quizzical, and she laughed at the look on his face. He looked like he was in pain.

"Leia," he said quickly. "You asked him about a cradle."

She grinned, and shook her head, raising her shoulder a little.

"For no immediate reason," she said, hoping it didn't disappoint him.

"You aren't…?"

She shook her head again.

"No, I'm not," she said. She sighed. "You _and_ Han," she chastised gently. "Let me be, will you?" she joked good-naturedly.

Her father smiled faintly.

"Don't think _I_ mean to pressure you," he said. "I know you're struggling with the idea."

"Yes," Leia agreed honestly. "I am. _But_ ," she said, very quietly, "I'm starting to hope there's a day when I'm not struggling."

Her father squeezed her shoulder. He beamed at her, and Leia returned the smile, taking a deep breath – and she resumed her walk into the center of Theed, with her father at her side –

The central fountain of the Ruler's Plaza, where Pooja had asked them to meet her, was a cacophony of activity – and when Leia came to sit quietly by the water, her father milling at her side, thoughtfully looking around, she was spotted by a young female who immediately recognized her.

"Princess…Leia?" she asked hesitantly, looking hopeful. "I'm…a journalism intern at the Press Academy in Theed," she explained breathlessly. She looked at Leia shyly. "I'm not trying to – harass you – so, um, off the record," she said quietly. "You really inspire me," she whispered.

Bail grinned at the student, and Leia smiled at her. She looked down at her data recorder, and saw that it was indeed, switched off, and she hesitated a moment. She looked at the girl again, and though maybe she could help her get a break in her career if –

"Do you want a quote?" Leia asked calmly.

The girl looked like she would faint, on the spot, and nearly dropped her things, scrambling to turn on her recorder, nodding fervently – her hand was shaking as she held it out –

"I'd prefer if you kept it to one or two questions," Leia said gently.

The girl nodded, and swallowed, scrambling for something –

"Well, I – well then," she said, taking a deep breath. "May I ask what you're doing on Naboo?"

Leia looked at her for a long, silent moment. She turned slightly, and glanced up at her father, and then turned back to the young intern, deciding on her answer abruptly, but with conviction –

\- and she had few qualms about saying it; her father was standing next to her, and the statement was vague, open to various interpretations, but she was on the verge, in the coming months, of clarifying everything – and why not start that process transparently, in minor ways – right now?

She said –

"I am visiting family."

* * *

In the lulling afternoon hours before the hustle and bustle of dinner preparation began, Pooja found her mother and her grandmother spending quiet time in the sun. Just returned from her foray into Theed with Leia and Bail, she joined them on the riverbank, announcing her presence with only a smile, and a nod, content not to disturb the peace.

Jobal sat with her legs crossed, and a sturdy woven basket in her lap, her attention focused on separating the stems and leaves from the berries she'd gathered earlier, and Sola was next to her, stretched out on her back and enjoying the sun.

Pooja leaned back on her elbows, the third generation in a line of formidable women, and blinked up at the clear sky, remaining quiet for a considerable length of time before her mother knowingly opened one eye, turned her head, and peered at her –

"Out with it, Pooja," she coaxed wryly. "You've got something on your mind."

Pooja flushed – her mother knew her better than anyone, and she gave her an affectionately annoyed look. Jobal smiled warmly, tossing Pooja a handful of round, ripe berries for a snack.

"Did Gran-Papa speak with you?" Pooja asked, making a fabric basket with the hem of her gown and cupping the berries there in her lap.

She peeled one of the fruits lazily, diving in without engaging in small talk – after all, her mother asked it of her, and Sola had never been one for small talk.

"He's been 'speaking with me'," Sola laughed, enunciating the phrase with amusement, "since I was about ten," she joked. "I stopped listening years ago."

"Oh, Sola," admonished Jobal, clicking her tongue. She sprinkled some berry stems in Sola's face, shaking her head. "You respect your father," she ordered lightly.

Sola smirked.

"You know what I mean," Pooja said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "About what Leia wants?"

Sola sat up, drawing one leg up and resting her arm over it. She looked intently at her daughter, and Jobal turned her head, nodding once in simple confirmation.

"He did," she confirmed quietly. "Ryoo as well, while you were in Theed," she explained.

Pooja nodded, biting her lip apprehensively.

"Well?" she asked.

Sola pointed at Pooja and shook her finger a little.

"Well," she repeated. "What he did not tell us was how you felt on the subject, though we gave our opinions anyway," Sola said. "Out with it, Pooja. You're my little Padmé, so I'd like your perspective."

Pooja beamed at the comparison, and then sighed. She sat forward and tucked her curls behind her ears, tilting her head.

"From a purely political standpoint, I can't see any strategic benefit to her keeping it a secret," Pooja said frankly. "I hadn't really considered it until Gran-Papa brought it up to me before they arrived, but now that I do consider it," she shrugged. "He's right – and Leia's right. Even if the chances are slim that anyone obtains the information and leaks it, Leia's better off – we're all better off – if we own the story first."

Jobal smiled gently.

"I think some of the hesitation comes in _regarding_ the story," she said thoughtfully. "We," she gestured between herself and Sola, "and your grandfather – we knew Padmé, and we knew _her_ Anakin," she said, "and Luke can speak to Darth Vader's redemption – but the galaxy knew _Vader,"_ she continued, "and there are even gaps in what we do _know_ about what happened, as a whole."

She paused, her hands falling still in her basket for a moment, as she thought of her husband's inner conflict.

"It's almost inevitable that the story will spiral and twist out of Leia's control, and Ruwee worries about that effect on us – and Leia and Luke," she paused, "and Padmé," she said honestly. "We want her remembered. We want her vindicated. He fears…that the honoring of her memory will turn to hatred."

Pooja nodded, uncertainty twitching in her stomach – when she'd spoken to her grandfather, and she'd given her side – firmly in Luke and Leia's camp – she'd been sure the other women in her family would support her, sure they'd feel the same way –

"I still think it's the best case scenario for Leia to break the story," Pooja said in a quit, confident voice.

Sola and Jobal shared a look.

"What did you – tell Gran-Papa?" Pooja ventured tentatively.

Sola gave her a lopsided smirk.

"Pretty much the same thing," she said frankly.

Jobal nodded.

"I was merely illustrating how he feels on the subject, and why he feels that way – his opinion is valid. I understand why he feels that way," she said, giving her husband credit. "But I – Sola and I – agreed that this must be approached from the point of view of what Padmé would want," Jobal said calmly. "And Padmé was not a liar, and she advocated transparency – and what you've said is correct, it's better for Leia and Luke if people see them as honest about it, especially considering the fear and hatred that Vader inspires."

Jobal smiled.

"We have to do what's best for Luke and Leia, because we have to protect them on behalf of Padmé," she said firmly.

Pooja lit up with relief.

"I was concerned it might cause a rift – and I know Ryoo was so jittery about the Vader connection – "

"Actually," Sola interjected mildly, "your sister was the most vocally in favor of giving Leia our blessing."

Pooja stopped, her eyes wide. She arched her brows, interested, and Sola nodded, a proud look crossing her face.

"Her reasoning – well, think about it," Sola explained logically. "She has young children. Indy's mature, but he's still a child – if we demand this be kept secret, Ryoo can't tell her children about it until they're old enough to keep it quiet."

Sola lifted one shoulder openly.

"As it stands now, Maiah would never keep her mouth shut – and she shouldn't be expected to, she's a little girl and she loves Princess Leia, and she's excited – so Ryoo would be forced to withhold a significant family secret from the kids."

Sola shrugged.

"It's a slight bit different – they have no direct connection to Vader or Anakin or any of the players, but they'd _still_ feel betrayed. Luke and Leia felt betrayed – _we_ felt betrayed," Sola pointed out dryly. "Then, having kept a secret from them their whole lives, Ryoo would also have to order them to continue keeping it – and no one has control over what another person does with a secret."

Sola shrugged.

"Ryoo was adamant," she said.

Jobal smiled archly.

"She was rather angry with Ruwee, I'd say," she noted. "I rarely see Ryoo butt heads with your grandfather, but she did on this."

"Oh, she planted her feet and told him point-blank, over and over – _I'm not going to lie to my babies_ ," Sola quoted. She smirked. "Threatened to call the press in Theed herself if Papa didn't give Leia his blessing," she snorted. "I was quite proud of her."

Pooja's shoulders relaxed, and she made a mental note to hug her sister extra tightly – but she knew Ryoo was fierce like that, even if she hid it, or never tapped into it. Ryoo would do anything, and submit herself to anything, for her kids, and it was a wonderful quality.

"I don't think it's going to be easy for anyone," Pooja said, with an earnest sight. "But…we'll have each other."

"Yes," Jobal said firmly, "and we will not be burdened with hiding it."

Sola nodded. She smacked her palms together matter-of-factly, and sighed, looking over her shoulder – they were far from the Hydenock trees where her little sister was laid to rest, and yet Pooja knew her mother was looking to Padmé's grave, contemplative, and admiring.

"I wish she was here," Sola said honestly, shaking her head.

She looked back, running her hand over her brow, and through her hair.

"It's a relief, isn't it?" she murmured, addressing Jobal with earnest eyes – devoid of their usual sarcasm, and biting humor. "Talking about her so openly. _Remembering_ her," she emphasized. She moved her hands near her stomach as if trying to physically explain something. "It's like a pressure lifted, after all of these years."

Jobal nodded seriously, her face almost a mirror image of Sola's – relaxed, relieved, and justified, as if something that had been so unfair for so long was finally rectified.

"It feels right," Jobal murmured in return – final, and hopefully.

Pooja smiled, and hugged her legs to her chest, dipping her head down to rest her chin on her knees.

"If I had – any inkling that something like this would happen – a year ago," she laughed, and shook her head. "I'm so glad this went well," she said softly, and then lifted her head, earnest, her brow crinkling as if she might have been mistaken. "It went well, don't you think?"

"As well as can be expected," Sola quipped dryly.

"Sola, be fair," Jobal said honestly, again, stopping her work with the berries. "It could have gone far worse," she noted – and Sola nodded –

"You're right, Mami," she agreed gently. "I was just being me."

Her mother laughed, and Pooja leaned forward.

"Did you all really think I was dating Luke?" she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

Jobal smiled tolerantly, and Sola burst into laughter, nodding her head.

"Pooja you were – suddenly seen with him quite often, and then you were bringing him to visit us and wouldn't tell us what it was about – "

"He hadn't told me yet, either!" Pooja protested.

"Forget dating, I thought you had eloped with him," Sola retorted dramatically. "And with his last name – well, it never occurred to me that – but still, I thought – _kest_ , another blasted Skywalker? That's worse than Ryoo's gambler!"

Pooja dissolved into giggles, clutching at her waist, and meanwhile, Sola shook her head, glancing up at the sky.

"How did it never occur to me?" she asked dryly. "Luke _Skywalker_ , _Jedi_ Knight. "To my knowledge, Skywalker is not a common name," she looked at her mother, eyes wide – "Have we been blind?"

"Blind, or not looking," Jobal said sagely. "Your father is right – what kept Luke and Leia safe, and off the radar, was not that they were hidden well; it was that no one knew to search for them."

"Hmmm," Sola sighed, thoughtful. She inclined her head. "Fair enough, yes, but all the more reason for Leia to get ahead of this – there's no longer a war going on. The galaxy has time to…investigate."

"Isn't _that_ the truth," Pooja muttered darkly. "The word thing about peacetime is that it turns unity into mundane strife. As brutal as war is, common enemies are unifying."

She sighed, and brushed her hand on the grass.

"It's an endless cycle," she said brusquely. "There is peace, peace decays as petty, idiosyncratic differences get bogged down in bureaucracy and people's personal frustrations boil over – beings sequester themselves within their species or race or ethnicity, communication breaks down – a demagogue rises to unite the factions and make it better, demagogue turns to dictator, oppression ignites uprising – there's the inevitable defeat of the oppressor, peace reigns again – and, _repeat_."

Sola looked at her daughter thoughtfully.

"It's how the galaxy works," Pooja said. "No one learns. It's why history should be the cornerstone of education. And what is instead? Economics." She rubbed her hands together. "Money, money – money."

"How did you get so smart, Pooja?" Sola asked, smiling gently.

Pooja shrugged. She threw her hand out.

"The oppressor ignited my uprising," she joked.

"And so when in our future do you foresee the next demagogue rising?" Jobal asked lightly.

"Hopefully when I'm dead," Pooja lamented. She touched her forehead. "If I'm tired of fighting," she jerked her thumb at the house – "our heroes must be!"

She meant the leaders like Luke and Leia, and Sola nodded, Jobal smiling sagely next to her.

"If it's an infinite cycle," Sola challenged. "Why do you fight? Why try?"

Pooja looked incredulous.

"The fighters are the most important part of the cycle," she said. _"Cycle,_ Mami," she repeated. "If any part of it gave up, or desisted, we'd be stuck in one part of it – do you want to be stuck in the oppressed stage?"

Sola arched her brows.

"No, I suppose I do not," she said, satisfied with Pooja's answer. "You belong on Coruscant with Leia," she said.

Pooja beamed again.

"And she and Luke belong with us," she added reciprocally.

Jobal lifted her head, and nodded, a bright smile crossing her face – and she looked between Sola and Pooja, beaming at them both; for her, that was the core of it, the very heart of the matter – her family, though eternally missing one, was healed, in a way – more complete than it had been in years – and as far as she was concerned, the scars caused by the fast could now start to fade down under the skin, where they belonged.

* * *

Before bed on their final evening at Varykino, Leia found her way to Luke's room for a low-key sort of sibling debrief concerning the visit as a whole – after all, they would be parting ways for a bit following this; Leia, returning to Coruscant with Han and Bail, and Luke forgoing a return to Coruscant in favor of a soul-searching trip back to Tatooine for a bit.

The house was settling into quiet sleepiness, and Han was in the 'fresher scrubbing off the residue of a day spent entirely outside, either playing with the kids or helping Whyler grill Nerf steaks – he was tired, and a little sunburnt, and Leia sensed that no matter how well he got along with almost everyone here, he was about ready to be back in their place – and she was _sure_ he missed Chewie, who was currently hurtling back from Kashyyyk, and would be waiting to meet up with them back home.

Luke was just out of the 'fresher himself when Leia knocked on his door and, at his muffled, shouted bid to enter, peeked her head in to make sure she'd heard correctly before she made herself at home.

His bed was covered in a frazzled mess of holo-docs and, data chips, and other research paraphernalia, and Leia could tell he didn't move any of the items to sleep, because they all neatly aligned themselves on one side of the bed, while the other was rumpled and clearly slept in.

She smiled a little and curled up in an armchair Luke gestured her over to, while he pulled a sweatshirt on over one of his sleeveless shirts and sat on his bed amongst the scatter of items, his legs crossed in his signature, monk-like manner, and his head tilted back against the headboard.

He grinned at her wryly.

"Han's going to go slinking through the house looking for you if you've disappeared while he's in the 'fresher," Luke advised her.

She laughed, pushing her hair back and rolling her eyes.

"I left him some snacks to occupy himself," she joked, shaking her head. "Don't make him sound so neurotic," she chastised good-naturedly. "In his defense, in the past, when I disappear without warning it's not usually a good sign."

Luke inclined his head.

"True enough," he agreed. "But Han gets antsy if you're late at work," he pointed out.

"I don't like it when Han's not home at the expected time, either," Leia countered.

Luke looked solemn.

"Because when Han works late someone has likely died – there is genuine cause for concern – Han's need to be around you is – "

"Why I married him," Leia interrupted gently, arching a brow. She smiled at her brother. "As endearing as your worry for Han's sensibilities are, he'll be okay," she said wryly.

Luke smirked.

"And how are you?" he asked.

"Lovely, thank you for asking; how are you?" she returned gallantly, with a hint of amusement, and Luke laughed, his shoulders falling back easily against the headboard of his bed.

"Okay, okay – dispense with the formalities," he joked.

"You started them," Leia quipped pointedly, flicking her hand at him teasingly. She placed her elbow on the armrest of the chair and then leaned over to tap on a lamp at the bedside table, giving a little more illumination.

"You wanted to talk," Luke reminded her.

"Well, nothing serious," Leia murmured lightly, shrugging. "I just wanted to…touch base on everything, without anyone else's input – you and I as…twins, as Anakin and Padmé's legacy," she explained.

She likened it to the little personal chat they'd had before she mad her way up to Varykino, that morning on the _Falcon_. It was a – before and after, of sorts, given that she and Han – more specifically, she – would need to get back to Coruscant without much time to linger tomorrow.

Luke tilted his head at her, drawing up one of his legs and hanging his arm over it casually.

"Their…legacy," he said slowly. "Is that what we are?"

"It's inevitable, in a way," Leia said honestly. "When the truth is out, we'll always be associated with them, whether it's negative or positive – the same way I'm currently always compared to my father, or other Organas – children are always their parents' legacy, even if that's not the intention," she said quietly.

"I've never heard you include yourself as one of their children," Luke noted.

Leia lifted one shoulder in a soft shrug, and said nothing. She wanted to commiserate with Luke, and he was always open to such – so she switched gears, only a little –

"I've finished Shmi Skywalker's diary," she offered quietly. "I read the last couple of entries last night."

"And?"

Leia sighed, and smiled faintly.

"It ended so well," she answered gingerly. She twisted some loose strands of hair around her fingers, still resting her chin in her palm. "Shmi was…none the wiser concerning Anakin's fate. She was happy, and in love, despite never seeing him again," she reflected.

"I'm going to go looking for more of her history on Tatooine," Luke confided. "It might be futile. She had to have…her own people, though – a mother, a father."

"It's unlikely they're alive, Luke," Leia said gently.

He shrugged.

"I want to look," he said. "I want to know," he paused, and then amended his statement – "I want to know the things I am allowed to know."

Leia cocked her head.

"Allowed?" she quoted.

"Some answers simply don't exist," Luke said bluntly. "I've learned in my studies – even in my tutoring under Master Yoda – that so often, the demand for answers that are long stricken from the record, and unavailable, is only useful in driving you mad," he reflected. "In my excavations of Jedi lore and Force knowledge I…run up against impenetrable walls more often than not, and rather than rip them down, I rely on patience, and ask the Force to guide me – and what it wills me to know, I will know."

Leia brushed her hands over her eyes, and sighed.

"You have this, this quality that I envy," she said, almost to herself. She lifted her head, gesturing with her hand as if she were trying to snap her fingers, and summon the word she was looking for. "It isn't – whimsy, that sounds juvenile, it's – "

"Faith," Luke supplied simply.

"Faith," Leia agreed. She placed her hand to her chest, and cocked an eyebrow wryly. "I'm logic, and calculations – sensibility."

"Faith isn't _in_ sensible," Luke argued.

"No," Leia agreed – because she had faith in Luke, and in Han; in her father, and in her beliefs, but those were things she had tangible proof of, and some semblance of control over, in certain respects – "but faith makes me feel helpless."

Luke gave her a forgiving smile, waved his hands as if it were nothing.

"I have enough faith for the both of us; you're free to rely on mine when you need it," he said, and grinned – "I certainly rely on your logic, and ability to temper passion in favor of stability."

Leia mirrored his grin.

"Ah, so we're a balance?"

Luke shrugged.

"Perhaps two vastly different, but equal representations of the best parts of Anakin and Padmé," he said slowly, "with the added influence of every other person who has ever been significant to us."

Leia's eyes glinted wryly.

"Products of our environments, with a dash of destiny?"

Luke snorted –

"And you said this conversation was going to be nothing serious."

Leia laughed, slouching down in her chair a bit. She shook her head, biting her lip, considering him for a moment.

"Well," she ventured softly, arching a brow. "Have we been successful?" she asked quietly.

She didn't meant to sound political, or impersonal, and she figured Luke knew, and understood that. She only wanted to gauge his feelings, and compare them to hers – similar to how they had back at the beginning, that early morning on the Falcon, when he'd helped ease her into what she'd committed to here.

Luke rolled his head back and forth lazily on the headboard behind him.

"I figure that depends on what we came here for, individually," he mused slowly. He lifted a hand and pressed it to his chest. "I'm happy," he said, " _I_ feel successful. I expected more strife than we encountered and – Leia," he laughed, "most of the strife…well, frankly, was between you and Han," he snorted, almost apologetically.

Leia flushed.

"I tried to – "she fumbled, "I wanted to keep it – under wraps," she protested, a grimace crossing her face, and Luke sat forward, waving his hands.

"No, I don't _care_ , I'm not trying to put you down," he said urgently. He smiled. "It was just unexpected. I felt like you were holding your breath about the Naberrie family, and yet aside from Ruwee – " Luke trailed off, wincing.

Leia sighed, and pressed two fingers to her temple with a pinched expression, closing her eyes a moment.

"You're right," she admitted simply. "Even _I_ feel that way," she agreed.

"I'm glad to hear that," Luke said. "I felt a little – maybe I was too flippant; what Ruwee said to you was harsh."

Leia shrugged, hardy batting an eyelid.

"He's more than made his peace, and he was hurting," she said calmly. "I still agree with you," she went on. "I was…I don't know," she shrugged, and sighed, pausing a moment. "You know, that fatalistic part of me was assuming they'd – grit their teeth and bear us, but not want us around," she said. "I assumed we'd just be a…terrible reminder, or an unwanted burden – we'd make it impossible for them to shake off the past," she explained.

Luke hesitated a moment.

"Do you think that – maybe that was you projecting your feelings on them?" he ventured. He watched her think a little, and then tilted his head, going on quickly – "It seemed to me that you kind of felt that way about making contact with them," he elaborated softly. "Kind of like you were so resistant about coming here because it might…impede you coming to terms with the past?"

Leia ran her tongue along her bottom lip, quiet, and thoughtful. She tilted her head forward, a small smile touching her lips.

"I don't disagree with your interpretation of my feelings," she said, and Luke laughed at the diplomacy, tilting his head back and rolling his eyes.

" _And_?" he asked, swallowing hard, and staring at the ceiling – he thought intently focusing on her might intimidate her into playing her emotions close to the vest, and he wanted to know, really know, how she was feeling – tonight, the evening before they left Varykino, as opposed to all the time leading up.

"Ahhh, _and_ ," Leia sighed, tilting her own head back. She ran her fingers through her hair, and twisted it into her palm, holding onto it, thinking. She smiled a little. "I like them a lot, Luke," she said, her voice quiet and bright, "even love them, though that seems a little aggressive."

"Why?" Luke asked curiously. "They're family. It isn't aggressive to love family."

"There are all kinds of families," Leia said gently. "Most beings are inundated with the idea that love of a blood relative is automatic, and that other loves are learned, and crafted over time, but I've loved my family since birth," she explained – "and Han, Han's never known his father, and I think if the man showed up some day, Han would probably never love him, blood or no blood," she went on.

Leia paused.

"I don't mean to imply I think it's unnatural to love them so quickly, I just didn't expect it," she said. "There's a lot to overcome there, for me – the Vader connection, and it just…is a lot," she said softly. "It's overwhelming. You know," she paused, "I spent a very long time not letting people get very close."

"I know," Luke agreed sagely.

Leia nodded at him, falling silent again.

"I feel successful," she decided. "I'm not entirely sure I can define what I was looking for, in coming here. I wanted to know more about Padmé, but to be honest, a lot of that curiosity could have been satisfied by my father, since he knew her so well – I didn't care about Anakin, or Vader," she sighed. "I came for you," she decided, "because _you_ wanted this, and _needed_ this," she bit her lip, pausing a moment, "and you thought it might help me further, in some way, and I _trust_ you – even though sometimes it's infuriating to be humbled by your insight, when I think so highly of my own ability to handle things."

Luke flushed, and Leia rubbed the heel of her hand against her eye, yawning.

"Don't take that the wrong way, Luke," she murmured into her palm, backtracking a little. "That sounded like I was insulting your intelligence – I'm finding fault with myself, I promise," she said earnestly. "It's just that I grew up with all of these highly refined skills, and in the face of the things you handle so gracefully – " she held out her hands and rolled her eyes honestly. "I fall apart."

Luke faced her, running one hand over his knee. He held up his prosthetic hand, looked at it, and then looked through his fingers at her, his face a little red from the high praise, but a wry smile on his lips –

"I'm not always so self-righteous and wise," he said loftily.

"I didn't call you self-righteous!" Leia protested. "I don't think – "

Luke grinned, lowering his hand. He rested it on his knee again, and then sighed.

"You want to know something?" he asked.

She nodded, and he said:

"I really miss my hand," he confided.

Leia paused for a moment, her expression frozen, unsure of what the admission meant. She tilted her head just a little, her lips pursed, and Luke twitched his fingers –

"I'm almost angrier, knowing what Anakin threw away, and how different things could have been," Luke reflected in a low voice. "It was different when his background was this mystery, and his redemption was a shining event that I helped effect," he explained. "There were times here, out by our mother's grave that I…I had to bury myself in meditation to try and let go of the anger. I kept feeling this what-if ache – what if he hadn't followed Palpatine, what if Padmé had lived, what if I could have grown up here, and what if," Luke held up his hand, pointedly, again, "he'd never hurt me."

He swallowed hard.

"Either one of us."

Leia blinked, her eyes stinging.

"I don't know, Luke," she said hoarsely. Her voice shook, and she raised and lifted her shoulders helplessly. "I'd never have known _my_ parents," she reflected. "I probably _never_ would have met Han."

Luke snorted.

"I can't imagine you without Han," he said.

Leia smiled faintly.

"Neither can I, anymore," she whispered. She swallowed hard. "Han asked me once if I'd wished anything had gone differently, and I never know how to answer that question," she said. "I told him I can't change things, and I've stopped wishing I could, because that was killing me," she explained, "but I suppose what makes me feel guilty sometimes, now, is that if a sorceress – or some, all-powerful being – stood before me and offered to let me go back, and change history – and yet that meant I might _never_ have what I have with Han now," she broke off, lifting her shoulders helplessly.

She ran her hand through her hair.

"I used to be so violently angry that I had no power to change things," she said quietly, "but lately I've felt almost certain that I wouldn't, if I could – and that _plagues_ me, because Alderaan – "

"Leia," Luke interrupted quietly, his sage, blue eyes on hers gently. "That sounds an awful lot like you're afraid to completely heal because you're viewing healing as a betrayal of your people."

Leia lifted one shoulder wordlessly, giving him a pointed look.

Luke sat forward seriously.

"You can be happy with your life and where it's going without it meaning you're dismissive of the death of your planet," he said, holding out his hands flat, palm up. "Those things – your happiness, and the Emperor's mass genocide – which they _blamed_ on your lack of cooperation, but _engaged_ in for their own purposes – aren't even on the same scale."

Leia nodded.

"I _am_ happy, Luke," she said earnestly. Her voice cracked softly, in a nice, easy way. "I am so happy. I think it added an unexpected dimension to my issues."

Luke smiled kindly, and Leia rubbed her knuckles softly on her cheek.

"It was good to be here," she said, licking her lips. "Peaceful," she decided. "They're such good people," she repeated Luke's oft-stated sentiment – "and every one of them is like a new element of strength to our story."

"Hmm," Luke sighed. "More good people to gather around you and reinforce you when you leak the information about Vader."

Leia sighed harshly, though the brusqueness was not directed at Luke. She drew in a deep breath.

"It won't be a leak," she said firmly. "I'll face that head on."

"Ruwee is on board?" Luke ventured quietly.

Leia tilted her head side-to-side, thoughtful.

"Ruwee is...considering it," she allowed. "He needs time, still. Two weeks is a good foundation, but it isn't any real preparation."

"You're not in any hurry," Luke said, shrugging – but caught a look in Leia's eye, and she hesitated, sighing again.

"No," she agreed slowly. "Hurry – no, that's not the right word; I am not in a hurry," she murmured. "However," she said quietly, "I'm tired of living with it in the back of my mind – I want it out there," she said. "I know how painful it's going to be. The backlash," she paused, shaking her head. "But I want it out there."

She lowered her head for a moment, and then raised it.

"I've never really asked you," she said. "Do _you_?"

Luke smacked one of his hands emphatically against the other, his expression earnest.

"Leia, I want to tell this story so badly, I have to bite my tongue to keep it in," he nearly burst out. "I defer to you because you're the one with the political career, and I think you know pretty damn well what you're doing when it comes to dissemination of information, and Media control – but I feel the same way you do about dark secrets: they're poisonous. And when I train new Jedi," he pressed his hands to his heart firmly, pointing to himself, "I want to them to know who I am, and where I come from, and why my knowledge is so valuable – I stared down two of the most heinous Sith the dark side ever produced, and I brought one of them _back_ ," he said. "You bet your – you bet your _life_ I want it out there."

"Good," she said faintly, "because I'll need you by my side."

Luke nodded firmly – it was an easy promise; he wanted to tell the story of what he'd seen in those last moments on the Death Star, a narrative of choice, of redemption, of justice, and an end to a life slavery – he wanted to help the galaxy heal from Vader's terrorism in any way he could, the same way he'd helped Leia heal from Vader's personal brutality against her.

In some respects he felt as called to service as Leia – though her sense of duty had an ingrained element, considering who she was raised to be – but he knew that somewhere, in all of her desire to lead, and create a better world, she did feel a need to atone for Vader's reign, and Luke felt that, too – they were born to a greater purpose, they always had been; they could have each abandoned that purpose, but both of them had chosen it, and now they were bound to it – and he relished it like she did.

Luke slumped back against his headboard and sighed. He cocked a brow and turned and gave her a look.

"This was all _very_ serious," he noted wryly.

Leia smiled tiredly, her eyes sparkling – things always seemed to turn serious, even if they started lightly. She leaned back, and then leaned forward, her lips pursing inquiringly.

"Luke," she softly. "You said something – about knowledge, about accepting it, knowing only what you are allowed," she said, going back to the beginning. "I wanted to ask you something – about the Force."

Luke nodded, his head perking up eagerly – there was no one he'd rather discuss the Force with than Leia, and she was rarely interested.

"Visions," she said, pronouncing the word delicately – a bit skeptically.

"Of the future?" Luke clarified.

Leia shrugged.

"I don't know," she said quietly. "Maybe." She fell silent for almost a full minute, and then she rubbed her forehead. "I know Vader is dead, but I keep having nightmares about him – _stealing_ things from me," she said vaguely. "I know he can't," she added, almost to herself. "Or," she said, lifting her head – "I had a dream," she trailed off. "Well," she faltered, unsure of what she was asking – or feeling even. "Even last year, in the Jedi Temple," she said softly. "You were there – and some of that is a blur, for me," she mumbled, "you told me – the future is always in motion."

Luke nodded.

"An adage I stole from Master Yoda," he said wryly.

Leia put a hand not to her heart, but to her abdomen, her hand hovering near her hip –

"When I feel things are prophetic, or I think I have a vision, or a warning – how do I know if it's - ?" she broke off, and there was a look of bewildered frustration on her face; this religion just wasn't for her, it was so ethereal, it didn't make sense to her, but it also gave her power, and peace sometimes – it was a burden, and a blessing.

Leia took a deep breath.

"How do I avoid dwelling on things that haven't happened?" she asked.

Luke looked at her intently for a long time.

"Is there something specific?" he asked finally – cautious, but concerned.

Leia smiled a little, but shook her head vaguely – and Luke wasn't sure if she meant there wasn't anything specific, or if she didn't want to answer. He took offense to neither option, and tried to come up with the best answer he could –

"I think anyone, even someone without Force sensitivity, would agree that living in fear of suffering that might happen in the future is no way to live," he said slowly.

Leia listened, but said nothing – easy to think that way, for anyone who had never suffered as much as she had – as much as Luke had, or Han had. They had reasons to be wary –

"The future isn't set because the future is influenced by our choices," Luke said, "and sometimes…the future we see, is actually orchestrated by our choices in response to what we think has happened – does that make sense?"

Leia gave him a glass-eyed blink.

"What?" she asked, bewildered.

He took a deep breath.

"The first vision I had – I think I told you, a little – was on Dagobah. I saw myself in a duel with Vader. I won – beheaded him – but when the mask was off, it was my face behind it," he said solemnly. "That particular vision obviously did not come true," he said.

"But?" Leia sensed his hesitation.

"Not long after that, I saw blurry scenes of you and Han in Vader's hands on Bespin," he said quietly. "I lost my composure and walked into his trap – and I didn't save either of you; the vision I had came true, in a way. I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't gone," he said, "but I did not change things when I responded to it – and I was damaged in ways I wasn't ready for yet – my hand," he took a heavy breath, "Vader telling me he was my father," he said.

Leia watched him for a long time, and then she finally let out a slow breath.

"What do you think about prophetic dreams, then?" she asked. "Or rather – dreams that feel prophetic?"

"I think," Luke said softly, "you shouldn't become a prisoner of intangible what-ifs."

Leia smiled, and nodded – she took a deep breath, and let it out. It seemed sage advice – and ultimately, it seemed to be the right advice.

She was scared of what could happen to her, of what might be wrong with her, of what could happen to – any children she might have – down the road – and that fear was valid, but she needed to let herself work on not letting it cripple her, or swindle her into making decisions she was ultimately unhappy with – that would result in a cycle of misery – something she sensed Anakin Skywalker might have fallen victim to.

"Speaking of," Luke said, touching his finger to his temple wryly, pulling his father's name out of her head. "I spent hours here, seeking a conversation with him, and he runs off and hassles you."

Leia snorted lightly.

"Enlightening," she said mildly. "I hope you aren't offended if I say once is enough."

Luke inclined his head gallantly –

"I'm glad you got at least some tiny thing out of it," he said honestly – and he knew she had, even if it was nothing more than her ability to calmly refer to the person the Naberries had known as _Anakin_.

"I did," Leia confirmed simply, though she did not want to talk about it further.

Luke smiled and then reached up to grab his neck, kneading the backs of his shoulders lightly with his knuckles and giving an exaggerated, loud yawn.

"Feels like the visit's flown by, and lasted a year at the same time," he mused.

Leia laughed.

"Well, here's to hoping our last night here is uneventful," she quipped.

Luke yawned again, genuine this time, and cocked his head.

"What was all the commotion about _last_ night, anyway?" he mumbled curiously, sort of aware of what she was referring to. "I heard a bunch of running around, but I figured it would be better to just stay out of it, this time," he said frankly – considering previously, everyone getting out of bed to investigate had just put the spotlight on Leia in an unfortunate way.

"Ah," Leia said, tilting her head back a little, easing in to a lighter conversation. She arched a brow. "Well," she began lightly. "Maiah snuck out of _her_ bedroom while everyone was asleep and found her way into _ours_."

Luke's eyes went as wide and round as the twin suns.

"You mean – yours and Han's?" he asked, sitting up straighter.

Leia nodded slowly, tilting her head to the side. She was quiet for a moment, and then she started laughing softly.

"It was _quite_ an ordeal for Han," she said sympathetically. "She scared him half to death – and he was alarmed that she'd think to do that," she related.

Luke made a strangled noise – like laughter, but very controlled, as if he weren't sure if it were funny or not. Leia inclined her head, mostly to assure him he could laugh.

"I couldn't remember where the twin's room was in the dark, and she was chattering away so I didn't want to carry her through the house waking everyone up," Leia explained. "So, I took her to the kitchen to get some milk, and then I took her to Jobal and Ruwee and I think she slept in their room."

Luke gave her a fascinated look.

"And how's Han?" he asked seriously.

"Still alarmed," Leia confided solemnly. "Kept asking me what was going through her head – as if I can somehow relate to a five-year-old," she snorted. "I did warn him, though, since he's so keen on the idea of children, that he ought to get used to the idea of them demanding to share the bed."

She smiled a little.

"He thought it was so strange."

"He probably wouldn't have thought it was strange if it was his kid, Leia," Luke pointed out. "It's normal for kids to crawl into bed with their parents."

"Maiah's not abnormal, she's just affectionate," Leia answered calmly. "And I think she's sad we're leaving."

Luke nodded.

"Hmm. I didn't mean to imply she had a problem," he said lightly. He looked amused. "Why wasn't your door locked?"

Leia looked appalled.

"It's impolite to lock your door when staying as a guest in someone's home," she said. "It implies distrust of the host."

Luke gave her a dry look.

"Growing up on Alderaan must have been somethin,'" he quipped – knowing that on Tatooine, failing to lock your door anywhere was a possible death sentence, if not a blatant invitation to burglars.

Leia gave him a wry look.

"It's actually a social norm of Naboo," she said primly. "I researched customs before we came."

Luke rolled his eyes.

"Diplomat," he accused.

"Farmer," Leia retorted.

He snorted, and shook his head, yawning again. He leaned back, and placed his hands behind his head, cushioning his neck as he reclined against the headboard.

"Han's keen on the idea, eh?" he ventured cautiously, looking at her intently.

Leia laced her fingers into her hair. She pressed her lips together in a slight, careful smile and nodded. A little crinkle appeared in her nose –

"Would you ever have guessed Han would want a baby?" she asked quietly.

Luke shrugged.

"Sure," he said.

Leia arched her brows gently, - _Why?_ She asked wordlessly, her voice in his head, and Luke shrugged again. He gestured his hand a little flippantly, as if it were obvious.

"Han likes to take care of things," he muttered. "The _Falcon,_ Chewie," he ticked down fingers, "you."

Leia smiled, her head falling against the back of the armchair.

"I suppose he does," she agreed.

"What about you?" Luke asked.

Leia chewed on her lower lip lightly.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "We'll see. I don't want a baby," she paused almost pointedly, "at this moment."

Luke nodded.

"Is it a…waiting until you're married longer thing, or you don't want one at all?"

Leia was quiet, and unreadable.

"We'll see," she said finally, a small smile touching her lips – apologetic, almost.

Luke nodded.

"Do what's right for you, Sis," he said seriously.

She smiled.

"Yes," she agreed softly.

She closed her eyes a moment, sleepy suddenly – and yawned. Luke rubbed his eyes, and then dragged a hand through his hair – a moment later, he yawned, as well, giving her a sort of bleary glare; the damn things were contagious –

There was a knock at the door, and as Luke was looking up, it creaked open a little – it hadn't been fully shut – and the tip of a nose appeared hesitantly.

"Han," Leia identified immediately.

Luke sat forward, gave her a smug look, and started laughing – and she did, too, if only because Han had inadvertently proven Luke's point.

Han poked his whole head around the door and looked at her, narrowing his eyes a little suspiciously at the laughter.

"Figured you were in here," he muttered gruffly. His hair still looked wet, and he stepped in, one hand holding the door. "You coming to bed?"

"Is this the first place you checked?" Luke asked, before Leia could answer.

"Yeah," Han said, folding his arms. He glared at them. "What're you laughing about?"

Leia got up from the armchair.

"You," she said, wry but fond, coming to stand near him. "Yes, I'm coming to bed," she answered, softer. She touched his shoulder and smoothed her hand over his t-shirt, smiling.

Instinctively, Han put a hand over hers, and looked over her shoulder at Luke.

"G'night, kid," he said.

Luke merely rolled his eyes at them, and waved his hands in a shooing motion, ushering them away, and before she courteously shut the door, Leia turned and looked at him serenely, and before she lowered her mental walls to ensure her privacy, he heard her simple, parting words – _thank you_.

* * *

Bidding farewell to the Naberries and their quiet, hidden Lake Country haven was peaceful; the goodbyes were full of hope, and friendliness – inspiring in that it was so very clear that these goodbyes would by no means last forever. The bonds Luke had been so eager to create between himself, Leia, and their mother's family were being encouraged, and strengthened. They were new, and a no doubt a little apprehensive, but they were _there –_ and the general attitude towards having a close, tight-knit relationship with each other was positive.

It was late morning when everyone gathered to see Luke, Leia, Han, and Bail off in their separate directions – Luke to Tatooine, for more of his information gathering, soul-searching, and Jedi reflections, and Leia, Han, and Bail back to Coruscant – Bail tagging along on the _Falcon_ , this time, instead of on Luke's private ship.

The day was warm and bright – the mountains in the distance as beautiful as the lake below, and the sheer beauty offered by Naboo made Leia think nostalgically of Alderaan – and put into stark perspective how jarring it would be to return to the metallic jungle of Coruscant in the morning.

She was eager to return to work, despite the less savory aspects – she was used to those, anyway. She brushed off Han's attempt to get her to take an additional day so they could just be alone at home for a bit – nothing against him, but she did enjoy her job, and she enjoyed it enough, despite its trials and tribulations, that she started to get jittery, almost agitated, if she was away from it too long.

She appreciated the interlude she had taken to focus on this newfound family, and her tired, painful past – but she was ready, again, to start running forward, progressing, taking new steps in her life.

"If you can – if your military duties allow it – stop by again on your way back to the Core, from Tatooine," Jobal was saying earnestly to Luke, her hands on his shoulders.

She glanced over him at Leia and smiled at her knowingly.

"I know you'll be far too busy to take a hop back to see us soon, but you're welcome," she said.

Leia folded her arms lightly, nodding.

"This won't be the last time you see us, Jobal, I promise," Leia said gently – honestly. She smiled a bit wryly. "I'm generally loathe to invite anyone to Coruscant," she began, "but Han and I would be more than happy to host you if you'd like to visit us," she offered.

"I can't remember the last time we were on Coruscant," Ruwee said gruffly, rubbing his face. He arched his brows. "Hmm, Sola – was it Padmé's swearing in, at the Senate?" he asked.

Sola looked thoughtful.

"I wasn't there for that; I think I was pregnant," she said. She shrugged. "Perhaps – no, no," she corrected. She nodded back at her mother. "Mami went twice when Padmé was pregnant," she said.

"Ah, yes, of course," Ruwee waved his hand.

"The last time we went together was her swearing in," Jobal said, looking between both of them with a sage smile.

"As I said, you're welcome to visit – I'm sure Luke would be as thrilled as I would," Leia said.

Luke nodded earnestly.

"My apartment's small, but I have a spare room," he said.

"We also have a spare," Leia agreed. "Though it's likely we'll have more room in the future," she added flippantly.

Turning his head, Han's brow furrowed.

"What?" he asked gruffly. "We're moving?"

Leia smiled at him placidly, and shrugged.

"The husband's always the last to know, eh?" Whyler joked, snorting as he clapped Han on the shoulder.

Han shrugged, cocking an eyebrow – Leia hadn't mentioned anything about being dissatisfied about their apartment, and he liked it _there_ –

"Don't give me that look," Leia said smoothly, her eyes glinting. "You're the one who wants a bigger home," she quipped.

Han gave her a narrow, searching look. He turned away from whatever conversation he'd been having with Whyler, and seemed to be at a loss.

"I like our apartment," he said, frowning.

Luke laughed at the consternated look on his face, and Sola folded her arms, leaning into her husband's side, smirking.

"Puzzle it out, Han," she said pointedly, her lips quirking up in that dry way that was so specific to her. She twitched her head very subtly at Leia. "She's implying you might need more room, someday."

"It's a big apartment," Han said.

"Not for a woman who grew up in a palace," Darred joked. He looked at Han for a moment, and then rolled his eyes, taking pity on him: "Sola and I moved out of our first place when Pooja was born," he said.

Han looked at him blankly for a moment and then the implication seemed to click into place – he tilted his head intently, stared at Darred and Sola a moment longer, and then looked over at Leia, considering her for a long time. She gave him a little look that seemed balanced, but a little acquiescing, and raised her shoulders slightly, holding up one hand and waving it gently in a placating motion.

"The operative word is someday," she said cautiously.

Han, having learned not very long ago to hold his tongue in company – only gave her a small grin, and swallowed hard, falling silent – in that moment, he found, rather than being happy about the prospect of them perhaps having a baby, he was merely happy that Leia was comfortable with the possibility.

"There's plenty of places to stay on Coruscant," Pooja spoke up. She nudged Leia wryly with her elbow. "Including my Senatorial quarters," she noted, one eyebrow going up – and Luke laughed again.

"Oh right, we've forgotten you all already have family on Coruscant," he snorted, and both Whyler and Darred laughed –

"You've been replaced, Pooja," Whyler teased smugly.

Pooja made a flicking motion with her hands at him, and, coming down the rolling hill in front of Varykino with her children, and Bail, in tow – Ryoo gave Pooja a reprimanding look.

"Don't do that in front of the kids," she said – evidently it wasn't a polite sign, in Nubian culture.

"In my defense, you hadn't appeared yet when I did it," Pooja said primly.

She tilted her head and turned to Indy, who was hopping at his mother's heels.

"Did you see my hand gesture, Indy?" she asked, to prove a point.

Indy grinned, and mimicked it.

"Fantastic," Ryoo said with a scowl, adjusting Iver on her hip – and coming to a stop behind her, Bail crouched down to place Maiah on the flat, grassy ground near the gondola docks – she'd been squirming to get out of his grasp the moment she saw everyone, and she got her footing, and hopped forward, her expression lighting up.

"Lee-Lee!" Maiah gasped, dashing over to Leia and sliding her arms around her leg tightly. She looked up at her with bright eyes. "Lee-Lee," she breathed again, the sweet, childish nickname musical in her little soprano voice – it came about after Maiah heard Bail refer to Leia as _Lelila_ and, having misunderstood it, Maiah came up with her own version – and it stuck. "When can I come visit you?" Maiah asked hopefully.

Leia smiled. She crouched down, and swept Maiah up easily – a swift, confident motion that she'd gotten the hang of during the last week of their visit, and Maiah settled on her hip as naturally as if she'd always belonged there. She touched a neat, twisted braid running down the side of Maiah's head.

"This looks familiar," she said. "Who did your hair?" she asked knowingly.

Maiah flushed, swiveled, and pointed shyly at Bail – he'd been helping Ryoo with the kids while the adults handled getting luggage down to the docks without worrying about tripping over the little ones.

"I asked him to make it like you," she whispered. She patted the braids, too, and looked earnestly at Leia. "Do they? Look like you? Pretty?" she asked.

"She's your number one fan, Leia," Whyler snorted.

Ryoo's cheeks turned pink, and she shifted Iver on her hip again, sighing – but she'd long stopped correcting Maiah's affection for Leia – or Han and Luke, for that matter; they were used to it, and they all loved her.

Leia crinkled her nose and touched it to Maiah's, nodding.

"Yes, I used to wear my hair like that all the time," she confided seriously. "When I lived on Alderaan."

Maiah beamed and put one arm around Leia's neck, turning to show her hair to everyone primly.

"Did you do Leia's hair on Alderaan, Bail?" Sola asked, ticking up an eyebrow with interest. "That seems a menial task for the Viceroy," she noted thoughtfully.

Bail took no offense to the statement, and merely shrugged.

"Breha and I were as hands on with Leia as we could be," he said. He gave a small smile. "We went through a lot before we had her – we weren't about to hand her off to handmaidens and servants."

The look on Jobal's face was utterly satisfied, and though Ruwee looked bittersweet at the comment – he said nothing.

Maiah tugged on Leia's sleeve lightly.

"Visit?" she prompted.

"Well, we were just talkin' about that, Maiah," Han said, stepping up closer. He reached out to tickle her ribs and she squealed softly, hunching away with a smile on her face – she giggled, and Luke nodded.

"Yes, Leia was saying you're all welcome," he added, looking to Iver and Indy.

Bail cleared his throat.

"If I may – my sister and I currently live alone at the Alderaanian Embassy's residence and it is," he paused politely, "spacious, to say the least," he muttered.

"Understatement," Han snorted.

Bail gave him a glare, but looked around frankly.

"He's right, it would be more than enough to accommodate the lot of you," he said, "anytime you wish."

Ruwee stepped up to his wife and put his arm around her shoulders. He looked at Bail thoughtfully for a moment, and then nodded – he cleared his throat, inclining his head at Leia.

"I'm not sure how wise it would be to have all of us swarming around you in the middle of Coruscant before the – connection," he said delicately – "is identified." He paused, and then glanced over at Pooja, and back to Leia – "Wouldn't you two agree?" he asked. "You're our political strategists."

"Well, last week I'd have argued it hardly matters, as you can easily say you're there for me," Pooja said. She waved at Leia with a small smirk. "However, she told a journalist she was here visiting family," she reminded them.

Luke laughed.

"Which they interpreted to mean Bail, since he's here too, but if they start prying – " he trailed off.

"Who knows what conspiracy they would come up with," Bail said dryly.

Leia smiled demurely.

"Conspiracies are what we generally try to get ahead of," she said neutrally.

Ruwee nodded, clearing his throat. He looked over at Pooja for a long time again, and then at his wife – and then, for shorter beats, at both Ryoo, and Sola – and he finally settled on Leia again.

"We have had some – intent conversations on the matter of," he paused, choosing his words carefully, as the children were present, "revelation," he said simply.

Leia adjusted Maiah on her hip, and focused on Ruwee – not quite holding her breath, but tense, all the same – because here they stood, facing each other, and he knew that she would proceed with the revelation of her bloodline even if he objected, she had told him that explicitly, and yet she hoped for his blessing, for them with her –

"I told you of my concerns," Ruwee said. He smiled a bit wryly. "Naturally, the women in my family do not have any interest in my – what did you call them, Sola?" he asked pointedly

Sola cleared her throat seriously.

"Overly-cautious, curmudgeonly, self-preserving penchants for martyrdom," she quoted blithely.

"Yes," Ruwee said dryly. " _Those_."

He slipped his arm off of Jobal and stepped forward, approaching Leia with his hands out. Leia looked to Han, and in a quick motion – which she was surprised he identified so quickly – indicated she wanted him to take Maiah, which he did – easily.

Maiah immediately put her hand on the side of his head and twisted it into his hair, grinning with delight. Leia put out her hands to meet Ruwee's, and he clasped hers in his, taking a steadying breath.

"My girls," he said – a common way he referred to the many women in his family, "want Padmé's legacy to be associated with the defeat of the Empire, and the New Republic," he paused, looking between Luke and Leia, "and the two of you," he said quietly. "They are of the opinion that if securing that for her means associating her with the rest of it, as well – then that is that."

Ruwee swallowed hard, squeezing Leia's hands.

"They impressed upon me the importance of grieving my daughter publicly, which I was never able to do," he said softly. "And after it is all said and done, I think I'm inclined to agree. I think weathering the storm will be difficult," he said, "but," he sighed, "we've had worse."

Leia's shoulders fell, and she was awash with relief – she opened her mouth to say something, but Pooja interjected –

"Gran-Papa," she prompted, and then turned to the side, tucking curls behind her ears. "There's something else," she said fiercely, her face set confidently.

"Ah, yes," Ruwee agreed. He let go of Leia's hand, and gestured between himself and Pooja. "We'd like to be there with you, when you give the announcement," he said, stumbling over his words together – "the, reveal, ah – however you choose to do it."

Leia, at a loss for words for a moment, stared at him.

"It will – be a press…conference," she said quietly, barely hearing herself – and then she pulled her hands loose of Ruwee's loose grip, and put her arms around him in a genuine hug, closing her eyes against his shoulder.

When she felt him return the hug in a firm grip, she lifted her head, and kissed his cheek chastely, squeezing his wrists as she pulled away.

" _Thank_ you," she said softly, hoping she conveyed how much the blessing – and the support, the offer of visible, physical support – which she had not expected – meant to her.

Ruwee nodded, stepping back.

"You are both," he said, holding out his hand to clasp Luke's shoulder, "remarkable people," he complimented. "We'll be proud to be there."

Ryoo cleared her throat quietly.

"Whyler and I are going to talk to the kids after it comes out," she said. "You needn't worry that they might spill it beforehand," she said, a small smile touching her lips.

"Nah, we trust you," Han said, looking down at Maiah. "Right?" he asked seriously, arching both brows. "You can keep secrets?"

She put her hand over her mouth and nodded, mimicking gluing her lips shut, and Han grinned.

"What secret?" Indy piped up. He looked around, his head swiveling suspiciously. "Tell us what?" he demanded.

"Where babies come from," Bail offered sternly, as if that would throw him off.

Indy gave Bail a withering look.

"I _know_ where they come from," he retorted. He held up his hands. "I'm _ten_."

Bail looked flustered.

"Oh – well – yes, of course – is that – the age…?" he fumbled.

Sola tilted her head back and started laughing – unabashedly laughing, really enjoying Bail's discomfort – and Ryoo gave him a somewhat amused look, as well, shaking her head.

"You're a parent, Bail," she said, grinning. "You ought to know he's plenty old enough."

"Well, I – don't think anyone – told Leia until, she – was – I don't know, fourteen," he rambled.

Han gave Leia a curious look.

"Really?" he asked, smirking.

Leia rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure that is what Mother allowed you to think," she said, directly to her father. She gave Han a withering glance. "I was five or six when she told me," she whispered loudly.

Luke snuck a peak at the look on the Viceroy's face, and grinned, shaking his head –

"That's a little young," Whyler said gruffly. "I'm gonna stick up for the Viceroy a little here – "

"There was an intervening issue," Leia said dryly. "It came up fairly quickly when she was explaining why I didn't look like them."

"Ah," Jobal said gently.

She leaned forward and reached out to pinch her oldest daughter.

"Sola, stop laughing at the Viceroy," she admonished.

"I can't," Sola said honestly, grinning from ear to ear.

Bail gave her a gloomy, sheepish look, and sighed, shaking his head. Maiah turned to look around, and then looked directly back at Han, frowning as if she'd been left out of the conversation.

"Where do babies come from?" she asked him.

Han's expression immediately twisted into one of panic, and Ryoo gave Whyler a look. He took the cue, and stepped forward and retrieved his daughter from Han, giving her an affectionate look.

"You'll find out when you're older," he said.

Maiah gave him a pout, and put her thumb in her mouth, which Ryoo immediately removed, and stepped forward with Iver, letting him get a good look at the visitors.

"It's time to say goodbye, Iver," she coaxed. She smiled at them pleasantly – "Don't think I'm trying to rush you; it's only that I see the gondolas approaching," she noted, nodding her head over their shoulders.

Leia turned to look, and saw two of the small, delicately crafted boats on their way – they would gather the luggage, as well as the visitors, and ferry them back to the hangar down near the foothill village, and then they would be on their way – back to daily lives, and the mundane struggles of building a new galactic order.

She turned back when she heard Iver finishing up his goodbye to Luke, and she held out her hands to let him place his palms in hers.

"'Bye, Lee-Lee," he said shyly, leaning forward to hug her – and Leia hugged him back, smirking at the affectionate nickname; he'd picked it up from Maiah, and that's who she was to the children now – _Lee-Lee._ It was – a little strange, but heartwarming, and she liked it much more than she anticipated.

"'Bye, Han," Iver said, holding up his hand to let Han press his palm to it – he seemed to have picked up a typical male aversion to hugs, and Han gave him a gruff goodbye.

Maiah had to say her goodbyes again – smoothing Han's hair, kissing Leia's cheek, and Indy had a million things to say to all of them – he wanted to hear more from Bail about the strange Alderaanian ship phenomenon, if he could; he wanted Luke to tell him more about the Jedi, if he found things out, and he wanted to know things about Chewbacca, and Leia and Pooja's politics – his enthusiasm and intelligence was inspiring, and Leia crouched down to give him a hug goodbye with fondness – Han ruffled his hair, and Leia was sure Indy wouldn't brush it for days.

Ryoo and Whyler said their goodbyes next – likely so they could step back and hold their children out of the way while the others stepped forward.

"It's been wonderful getting to know you both," Ryoo said, touching first Leia's face, and then Luke's. "We'll keep in touch – an easier feat for the younger generation, usually," she said, smirking.

She gave Luke a hug, and then hugged Leia tightly.

"Give me a call, any time you want to talk," she said quietly, pulling back, and nodding back a little, in the direction of her kids.

Leia clasped her hands quickly, and nodded – and Whyler stepped away from his handshake with Han to extend the same courtesy to Luke and Leia, eventually fading back to stand with Ryoo.

"I don't feel like I need to say goodbyes," Pooja said, her personality sparkling as she did so anyway. "Leia – I'll be back on Coruscant a few days after you, calling you _Princess_ again, of course," she said, with a breezy wink. "Luke – I'll see you when I see you," she added, well aware he was wont to disappear for weeks on end.

"You were so integral in helping get this together, Pooja," Leia said.

"Yeah," Luke agreed. "Without you, it would have never been as easy to start building bridges."

Pooja beamed.

"Far be it from me to accept credit for the inevitable, but there's no way our families would have stayed separate forever," she said confidently. "The galaxy wouldn't have allowed it – the Force," she said, nodding respectfully at Luke, "wouldn't have."

"I like to think so," he agreed warmly.

Pooja glided over to say her goodbyes to Han, and then turned to do the same with Bail, while Sola and Darred stepped up – Sola sighed, taking Luke and Leia, and staring at them as if she were sizing them both up. She nodded to herself, as if judging them.

"You'll do," she decided, and then leaned forward and hugged them both loosely, a bright smile breaking over her almost permanently crooked, sarcastic smirk. Stepping back, she folded her arms – "You do my sister proud," she said simply. "You do me proud," she added, pressing a hand to her heart. She curled her hand into a fist, and nodded again, emphatically – "We won't let you become strangers again," she promised.

"Been a hell of a time meeting you both," Darred added, shaking hands – he leaned forward and boldly kissed Leia's cheek, and she smiled at him, taking it for what it was – acknowledgement, finally, that he could see her as a normal person, and not just a larger than life leader of an intangible Rebellion – a Princess, an untouchable mirage.

That meant more, in terms of making her feel like these people were truly going to be part of her inner circle, than anything else.

He and Sola turned to pay their respects to Han and Bail – and it was only Ruwee and Jobal left, stepping up to Leia and Luke – the two heads of Padme's family, facing her only children, lost, and then found again – and they looked content, and relieved – Ruwee Naberrie looked more at peace than Leia had seen him since they arrived.

Having said his piece – and such significant words at that – he did nothing more than reach out to hug Leia again, and press a chaste kiss to her forehead. He did the same to Luke – an equal show of affection, and in his footsteps, Jobal followed, closing her eyes and breathing them both in gratefully, holding them both a little tightly before letting them go.

She touched Luke's face, and then Leia's, and pulled her hands to her abdomen, clasping her fingers, and beaming softly at them both.

"As Sola said," she remarked. "We won't let you become strangers again – travel safely," she bid, and crinkled her eyes kindly, lowering her voice gently, "and stay part of us."

Leia and Luke clearly understood her meaning – all of them had to keep these fledgling connections alive; it wasn't merely lip service that was required, but true commitment to cultivating a family – and Leia, her defenses down, knew that she and Luke shared an equal desire to do just that.

Everything she had said to him last night had been true; these were good people, and they were her people, now – they always had been, even if they'd just come to know her.

She took a deep breath, and next to her, Ruwee took Han's hand, and shook it firmly, giving a small, wry smile.

"For what it's worth, Han, I _always_ thought you were a fine match for Leia," he said.

Leia turned her head, brows raised, and laughed a little hoarsely – if only because she knew it was a subtle joke aimed at her father, and the look on Bail's face was priceless – a mild scowl, that he tried to hide, because he knew when it came to Ruwee, he had to tread lightly.

Han smirked.

"Always was," he agreed, reaching over to drape his arm over Leia. "Even before _she_ knew it," he bragged.

Leia raised her eyes to the sky.

"Oh, he's so full of it," Pooja laughed. "Take him home and put something over his mouth, Leia," she suggested.

"She can't, Bail's going back on the _Falcon_ with them," Ryoo joked slyly.

Han shot a smug look at Bail, and the Viceroy grit his teeth – while Jobal came to his rescue.

"I think that's enough harassment," she said warmly.

She sent a sideways smile at Bail as she leaned forward, stood to her full height, and leaned forward to kiss Han's cheek.

"Lovely to meet you, Han," she said sincerely. She smiled, and looked between him and Leia kindly, settling her eyes back on Han. "Be patient with her," she advised, so quietly only Leia and Han could hear her. "Motherhood is a very hard undertaking," she said sincerely. "Be patient."

Han nodded, remaining silent, and Jobal moved on – she stood, with her husband, before Bail, and they were both quiet –

\- in fact, the gathering as a whole was silent, as if they were waiting, in this final moment – with the gondolas docking, and the sun shining, and the air warm and clear – to hear the final verdict that Padmé Amidala's parents would bestow upon Bail Organa, concerning the past, and his part in it.

Ruwee Naberrie cleared his throat, and held out his hand.

"You put them back into our lives," he said firmly. "From this point on, that is what matters."

Bail took Ruwee's hand humbly, saying nothing – and nodded, executing a firm, grateful handshake. Jobal stepped forward, placed her palms on Bail's shoulders, and kissed his cheek lightly, murmuring a soft, personal word of thanks.

There was – little to be said, after such heartfelt, and sanguine parting words – Whyler and Darred helped Han load the gondolas with luggage, and after another quick round of goodbyes – more generic this time, less full of meaning – the four interlopers were settled in their quiet ferries back across the lake.

Varykino faded in the distance, and Leia turned – careful with her weight – to watch it disappear. It melted slowly into the atmosphere, into the misty clouds in the sky – and she knew that the Naberrie family still stood, and still watched, no doubt preparing to spend a few days unwinding, and, without pressure, and without houseguests to consider, decompressing and letting the entirety of the past two weeks settle, and become part of them.

"Leia."

She turned at Han's touch – the gentle brush of his hand against her knee – and he was leaning forward, facing her, his expression concerned, and calm – asking her if she was alright, if this had all been alright – and Leia nodded, wordless, but with a tranquil expression on her face – it was all alright: the Naberries, Varykino, her confrontation with Anakin Skywalker, the tension with Ruwee, the children – everything that had happened, and all the little parts in between – it was all alright.

Han reached into the glittery, lake, swirled his hands in it – brought his palm up and showered Leia in a sprinkle of cool water, and she bit her lip, twisting away and giving him a startled laugh, and a look of mock outrage – he looked back at her in the sun, and though he said nothing, she felt like she could read what he was thinking in his eyes, in every line of his face – that he couldn't wait to get her home, and face anything and everything that would happen next –

\- and that was a sentiment she shared, with every part of her being – for rather than filling her with more doubt, or shaking the foundation of her personal peace, or driving her mad with questions about what could have been, breaking ground with the Naberries had given her the strength to face the next great hurdle in her life.

* * *

 _"To know what would have happened child?" said Aslan. "No. Nobody is ever told that."  
_ _Aslan to Lucy Pevensie  
[The Chronicles of Narnia; Prince Caspian]_

* * *

 _hope you'll forgive the inclusion of that quote, but i generally use it in all of my fics at some point, and its relevant to the themes of this chapter._

 _well ! here we are ! only the epilogue left - thanks for sticking around, thank you SO MUCH, as always for the outpouring of feedback!_  
 _until next time!_

 _-alexandra_


	12. Epilogue

.

* * *

 _Epilogue_

 _[9 months post-Identity;  
2yrs + 9 months post-Endor]_

* * *

The weeks leading up to the press conference at which her intimate connection to the bloodline of Darth Vader would be revealed were perhaps the most politically strategized of Leia's life thus far.

She had strategized before; that was inarguable – she had been raised in a royal court that taught her statecraft, she had rigorously studied diplomacy, she had cut her teeth in the Galactic Senate, honed her skills in espionage, earned an scarred and sturdy armor in revolution – to be sure, she was no stranger to tactical maneuvering, in both war and peace.

With such explosive information on hand, there was a minefield to navigate regarding preparation for the moment of its release – Leia sought to mitigate backlash where, and if, she could – that meant anticipating all possible angles at which the Media could attack the narrative.

She balanced carrying out her day-to-day duties with spending a grueling amount of time working closely with her father, with Carlist Rieekan – one of the few of her colleagues read in to the impending declaration – with Luke, with Ruwee, when possible – even with Winter, and Rouge – she sought all sorts of perspectives, tried to foresee what would be thrown at her – and her brother – when the information was public.

Leia planned for no one to care, and planned for every being in the galaxy to cry out in indignation. She planned for an understanding populace, and she planned for a mob who would demand she be deposed from her position and questioned for war crimes –

There were moments when Han shook his head at her, and looked at her with pleading wariness – _Sweetheart; you can't think it's going to be that bad – no one's going to say this about you_ – he said to her one night, sitting on the edge of her desk in their apartment, trying to coax her to bed, and she sighed, rubbing her eyes, tired, having spent the better part of a week composing balanced responses to a list of heinous – though hypothetical – accusations Winter had postulated.

She'd just looked at him silently, and moved forward to lay her head on his thigh, resting for a moment – she found it hard to illustrate politics to him exactly because of how much he hated them – she found it hard to tell him that there were people, perhaps even good people, who might use this against her even if they liked her, if they could find a way to further their cause, whatever that may be –

And there were people who hated her, regardless of what Han thought, and regardless of the good she tried to do; there were former Imperials who loathed her, members of different cultures who despised Alderaan's ways, and every liberal and progressive thing that she had stood for, and still stood for – there were people who didn't care enough to stick up for her –

It wasn't just herself she planned for, either – she strategized for Luke, to do what she could to prepare him, and fight to preserve the public's faith in him and his Jedi dreams; she planned for the Naberries, for Jobal, and Ruwee, and Ryoo and her girls –

She started small – easing the Naberries into the idea, discussing it lightly; it was perhaps a month after her return from Naboo that she and her father dug into the scheme and started organizing objectives, mentally, emotionally, physically, and politically preparing –

She obtained personal narratives from the Naberries on both Anakin and Padmé; little collections of stories from each of them, humanizing the story; she let them choose what they personally wanted provided to the public, and only asked it of them if they would agree –

She brought first Rieekan, and then Mon Mothma to the table; she asked that Mon Mothma play the part of a negative advocate, comprising a red team with Winter and Rouge – Mon to represent the politically ambitious who would manipulate the information, Rouge to represent the old world elitists, and Winter to represent the motley amalgamation of any groups that were left who might cause trouble.

As the designated date approached, Leia quietly, cautiously, and painfully, drew additional people into the impossibly small circle of those who knew; she did the former Alliance High Command the courtesy of briefing them privately in advance.

The reaction there was – mixed, subdued; for the most part, the former Command was comprised of military thinkers; Dodonna, Madine, Ackbar – all of them seemed bowled over, but not particularly wary of Leia – with the exception, perhaps, of Ackbar, who had withdrawn, somewhat, though politely. She hardly blamed him. The Empire – Vader's – treatment of non-human species had been –

She needed to feel a little of that rejection, a taste of what it would be like when millions in the galaxy widened their eyes and drew back in shock, because there was no hope that every single being would take it as well as – Dansra Beezer had.

She had provided the same courtesy of advance knowledge to her Alderaanian Council – with the exception of Threkin Horm – and though the resulting stone cold, screaming silence had nearly deafened her, she'd been relieved to hear Dansra's cool, unconcerned scoff suddenly break it – _You're Bail Organa's daughter, that's the end of it for me._

Her statement seemed to have awakened and rallied the Council; all it took was a firm nod of agreement from Evaan Verlaine, and not a one of them turned their back on her, and Leia could breathe for a day or two – reminded that her people had always been good, accepting; Alderaan was so much more a culture of individual judgment on personal merit and kindness than the rest of the galaxy.

She listened to the opinions and judgments of the Council, and of the former Alliance Command, taking to heart their words – their advisements – on making the announcement at all, and resolved still that she would do it, though a fair few of them had their reservations –

 _It's your privacy, Your Highness –_

 _Ambassador, there's no need; it'll cause undue uproar –_

 _Is it best for stability?_

 _Yes, I agree, transparency is best –_

Leia was set, determined; Luke was, too – the both of them, committed in their own rights to proclaiming their bloodline, fervent for their own reasons when it came to establishing the truth –

She saw to it that all areas were covered – her inner circle prepared to deal with the fallout, her close colleagues aware of the firestorm that would soon flare; she saw to it that Ryoo's family, on Naboo, was protected by security Leia personally hired – she even offered them her place on Corellia if they needed it –

Sola and Jobal, with the aid of Evaan Verlaine, were with the Queen of Naboo in Theed to handle anything that came up there, as Naboo would have a spotlight on it - and on Coruscant, Ruwee joined his granddaughters, and grandson, on the day of reckoning – with all of the preparation done, as securely and as aggressively as it could possible be – there was only to await the moment –

Late afternoon, gathering her bearings in a briefing room off the western wing of the Nubian Embassy's Media hall, Leia took a deep breath, glancing for the last time in a mirror before stepping out to the chatter of her closest circle –

Luke took her arm almost immediately, drawing in a deep breath. He squeezed her elbow tightly for support, dressed in one of his finest tunics – sleek black, complete with a cloak Leia knew to be Anakin Skywalker's, though she doubted he'd reveal the information –

She herself had chosen to wear the sunny, flowing embroidered golden yellow gown Jobal Naberrie had bid her to keep; she wore the gown in honor of Padmé Amidala, in reference to the past, the beauty of it, the dust of it – she had it hemmed, taken in only a little, and it fell on her almost perfectly, a light contrast against her dark hair and dark eyes.

Pooja was thrilled to see her in it; Ruwee could only look at her with a calm sadness – grief for his daughter, anxious anticipation for the coming maelstrom –

Around Luke and Leia, last-minute activity fluttered; Winter was with Tavska, Leia's personal assistant, fielding last minute questions from the upper echelon political elite – Leia's colleagues not on the council, or part of the former High Command, who had been informed this morning, last minute, of what would happen in the afternoon.

Their heads were reeling – their political advisors were no doubt losing their minds, screaming with panic; Leia had no doubt that half of them were being told to detach themselves from her party and her projects immediately –

She put a hand to her ribs, and took a deep breath; Luke leaned over and tucked his head near hers –

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

Leia nodded, closing her eyes a moment – she opened them, steeling herself fiercely.

"Yes," she said firmly.

She was – ready for this; she was ready to fight this – if anything, she felt like her life had been building to _this._ It wasn't – that this was more important than anything she'd ever done; no, to date, she could point to a handful of events that were more important than divulging an inflammatory family secret – but somehow, revealing this, admitting it – not so much embracing it, but _owning_ it – felt like coming of age in a strange and indefinable way –

As if once it was out, and she was laid bare before the galactic jury, there would be no going back; seizing the future would be an absolute, and not an act that had heretofore been metered by a little fear, and some insecurity –

She and Luke had discussed, at length and in lively, quiet philosophical mental conversations, the concept of destiny and their part in it, their beliefs in it – and she concluded that destiny was a choice, and in this act they were making the educated decision to bear the legacy of their parents.

Bail, convinced she was politically correct but worried about her emotionally, bonded with Ruwee in his reservations; Rouge fretted over the implications, scared for her reputation on a shallow level, and desperately worried about her family on a level only Leia and Bail could see – Winter remained cool, the Naberries fortified themselves, Chewbacca stood strong and loyal – and Han, Han –

Han pulled her aside, towards a corner, his eyes lingering for a moment on the door that led into the room where the press conference would begin, and he placed his hands on her shoulders, and then slid them down to her waist, lowering his head – he pressed a kiss to her jaw.

"I love you, Sweetheart," he whispered, brushing his thumb along the bodice of the dress. He grimaced, and his stomach twisted almost nauseously – he had been provoked into stress, _taught_ to worry, because Bail had disabused him of his – almost naïve belief that no one could turn on Leia merely because of her – genetics.

Leia nodded, and kissed his neck, resting her forehead on him for a moment.

"You sure you don't want me out there?" Han asked.

She took a deep breath and looked up at him, letting it out slowly.

"It isn't that I don't want you," she said – and he nodded; he understood – it needed to be her, it needed to be Luke, and Bail – and Ruwee and Pooja, too; they were the intimately involved parties, at least in the secrecy of it.

"I'll be here," he said gruffly. He jerked his head around. "We all will."

He meant – himself, Chewbacca, Winter, Rouge – Carlist. The few people who were privy to being in the wings to leave with Leia when all of this was over, and the shocked silence slowly started to fade into a roar of tyrannical curiosity and – Sith knew what else.

She heard Tavska call out the time, and then her father call her name – _Leia, are you ready – ?_

Leia took another deep breath, and smiled at Han bravely. She set her shoulders back, and ran her hands over his chest before stepping aside, and moving past him, joining her father and the others at the exit of the room –

Behind her, Rouge moved towards Han, looking small next to him, even smaller near Chewbacca, and Leia heard her faint, final warning – _I still don't think this is a good idea_ – and Han's quick, confident response – _Hey, Rouge, it's Leia's idea, they're all good ones –_

That little comment – it somehow gave her a unique strength, a strength all of the preparation and calculation hadn't afforded her; Han believed in her, and these people she held so dear believed in her – and there were millions more who admired the things she did, in some respect, who loved Luke, and –

"Do you think any of them know what is coming?" Pooja asked, her head high, and her eyes alight with something – nerves, anxiety, but bravery, too, and fierce determination.

"No," Ruwee said flatly – he looked over at Luke, and Leia, and nodded at them both, a small smile on his face – he seemed to encourage them with his eyes, reminding them he agreed to this; he wanted his daughter vindicated, like Luke wanted his father's story to be whole, to illustrate everything.

Bail rested his hand on Leia's shoulder, and gave her a quiet look, asking the same thing Luke had asked, wordless – and Leia nodded again –

She raised her head with the grace of a Princess of Alderaan, with the tenacity of a child queen, with the grit of a warrior – possessed of all the sagacity of a seasoned diplomat, and the composure of the woman who had raised her –

Bail opened the door to the outer annex –

\- Leia stepped lead the procession into the press conference with calm certainty and, in her mother's dress, armed only with words, and the best intentions, she stood next to her brother to tell them all who she was – and despite the flashes of the holocams all around her, her eyes were open, honest, and unwavering in the bright lights.

* * *

 _Epilogue_

* * *

.


End file.
